Floating on a Sea of Stars || KeL's Blog

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

*DADDY'S TEN RULES OF DATING* [Guys take note.]
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 you 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 than 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.