October 27, 2005

Coming Soon

My little Princess got her drivers permit on Monday. That means her 16th birthday is headed my way. 16 means dating boys so we have some criteria to meet:

10 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 utilising 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 pot-bellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted 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.

Source:Bruce Cameron I did not know where the original material came from until today. Not mine but I wish it was.......

Posted by BillyBudd at October 27, 2005 07:40 PM | TrackBack

Good rules. LMAO!!

Good Luck with that and my I also recommend sedatives for Dad.

Posted by: Scott B at October 27, 2005 10:10 PM

Good luck. I've got a while before my girls hit that age but you can bet that similar rules are already being drawn up.

I particularly like rule 4.

Posted by: Jay.Mac at October 28, 2005 02:52 AM

I don't think there has been a single post on your blog than I've enjoyed reading more than this! Your humor also shows infinite love for your little girl!

Happy birthdy to her!


Posted by: Cary at October 28, 2005 07:37 PM

Every girl on the face of the earth needs a father just like you.
Your love for her is absolutely beautiful.
You did a great job writing this. I laughed till I cried.

Posted by: Mountain Mama at October 28, 2005 11:38 PM

Mr. Budd, these are not just wise words, but eminently practical. Grace is just eight, but I will be coming to you for advice soon. You've clearly thought through this issue.

Posted by: Sluggo at October 30, 2005 10:34 AM

Would have been nice if you'd credit Bruce Cameron for the first 8 rules:

Posted by: Anon at October 30, 2005 06:47 PM

Sorry Bruce, I think I got these as an email, I posted above that I did not write them. I usually credit all posts when ever possible.

Posted by: Billy Budd at October 30, 2005 07:54 PM
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