Ten Simple Rules for
Dating My Daughter
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 his compromise: You may come to the door
with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too 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 are no
parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there
is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or
happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to
induce 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 driveway you should exit your
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.
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