Daddy's TEN rules of DATING!!
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not
picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do
not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my
daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that
they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends
are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this
compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes to big,
and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the
course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in
place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "Barrier method" of some kind can
kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports,
politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require
from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only
word I need from you on this subject is: "early"
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me
as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will
continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an
hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is
putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of
just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas,
or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing,
holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to introduce my
daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a
goose down parka -- zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be
avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are
better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on
issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless God of your universe. If I ask you where
you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but
the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a
chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in
my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as
you pull into the driveways you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the
perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then
return to your car -- there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is
mine.
Background music: On Bended Knees by Mariah Carey
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