Ten rules for dating my teenage


18-Sep-2017 07:50

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?

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. 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.

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 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. 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.

Put on a Depends, and safely begin hysterical laughter.

It's been replaced, I believe, with eight simple rules for dating my daughter." "The book 8 Simple Rules for Dating my Teenage Daughter is hysterically funny and universally entertaining.

Bruce's razor sharp wit will make you laugh-out-loud as he proves there's only one way to survive living with teenage daughters: with humor.

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 dancing, holding hands, or happiness. I may appear to be a potbellied,balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been.

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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. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless God of your universe. 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.In Brucespeak, children are supposed to laugh out loud taking your guidance.In the fading twilight, the headlights of an approaching car reminded Bill to reach for the dashboard and turn on his lights.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.