My Daughter is only 10, but I've got to start practicing...
Saiid, you'd better show this to your son now so he get's the message :watching:
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 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 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 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 feature 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 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.
Saiid, you'd better show this to your son now so he get's the message :watching:
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 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 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 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 feature 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 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.
I'm just glad mine is grown up and married to the third member of Team Gixxer. 
