A Dads rules for dating his daughter....

:::::I got this from a girl::::: My Dad's Rules For Dating ME!

If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be
delivering a package, because you're sure not picking
anything up.


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.


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.


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.


I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many
oppurtunities 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.


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 change the oil in my car?


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
tamperature 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 feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are
okay. Old folks homes are better.


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.


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.