Ten Simple Rules For Dating My Daughter

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Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk your fucking horn you’d better be delivering a package or a pizza, because you’re sure not picking anyone 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 permanently and mail them to your mother.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their pants so loosely that they appear to be falling off their asses. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete fucking 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 pants 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. Remember, I own guns and a backhoe.

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 untouched 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 an older man who has a few miles on him and look very mild mannered. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. I can disassemble, reassemble, and reload my Desert Eagles faster than you can ever run. 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 remind you I own guns, a backhoe, and 10 acres of partially wooded property behind this very house. Do not ever fucking lie to me because I will end you and any memory of you.

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 common criminal looking for an easy score. When my bullshit meter starts pegging out, 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 presence you might feel will be mine.

Reminder: We live on an enormous piece of wooded property surrounding a good sized pond, I’m a gun owner, and the owner of a rather nice backhoe. Make good choices when with my daughter because I have already made my choices about you.

Posted From Scorpion Sting’s Motorola Droid Maxx!

Who brings a gun to a knife fight?

Originally Posed 04 January 2012

This was the question going through my mind this past Monday while a wise-ass was pulling a knife on me demanding my wallet. But wait, that’s jumping right in the middle of my story. I need to back this train-wreck way up. First I need to tell you how I got to the point of wondering what I was wondering and why. For some reason I always like starting a story anywhere but the beginning for some reason. Go figure. So, let me start from a good point.At my regular day job we were closed on Monday in observance of the New Year. Not unlike many businesses throughout the country. However, my part time employment was open and my manager calls me to offer me mega money to come in to work on what would normally be my day off. Since we didn’t have any plans but to sit around the house, my wife said go for it, we could use some extra spending money. For those of you who do not already know, I bartend part time at “gentleman’s club”. The pay is normally good, I work about 20 hours a week for about $1500.00. Not bad when you consider my day job pays me the same for working 80 hours. Anyway, she wanted me to work 8 hours at double and a half pay. I will be right in was my reply.

Anyway, I get a shower and get dressed and I am on my way. The parking is usually pretty non existent there, so I rode my Goldwing like I normally do. I stopped for gas and cigarettes and away I went. I made pretty good time and made it in by 6 pm. It was dark already when I pulled in the parking lot to secure my bike. I got off my bike, took off my helmet, and here was this retard standing there waiving a little knife at me demanding I give him my wallet. Now, I am 6′ 8″ tall @ 285 lbs and this guy was all of 5′ tall and maybe weighed in at 125 lbs. My brain works all situations in humor and I immediately was thinking what a cute little knife this little man was struggling to waive at me. I told him to let me get my wallet out and he free to have it and everything in it. He wants me to hurry! I wanted to ask if he was late for a date, but instead I proceeded reaching for my wallet. Oops, I couldn’t provide my wallet, but I did produce my .50 cal Desert Eagle and put it right in his chest. I can’t even explain the look of shock and horror that was on this man’s face, use your imagination. A patron decided to walk by and talk, my guess is he wanted to talk about buying my bike, again, for the 100th time and realized what was going on. He went inside to alert my supervisor, who then called 911. There was a pretty quick response, 3 minutes tops, by HPD. One officer took the thug and the other proceeded to check me out. After my pat down, weapons check, and paperwork check, I was released. All of this happening with my boss watching, and she did not look very happy.

Once it all settled, we went into her office, where we sat and talked about my place of employment and how she could not allow me to work there any longer because I violated the rules, which I found out later, are posted on the front door. I never seen the sign that states there are now weapons allowed on the premises because I always used the back door. So, I was terminated. I didn’t contest it. She paid me what she promised me and told me to come back in a few months to talk to her about re-employment opportunities. Wow, Happy New Year. This was definitely a turn of events from what was expected from the evening.

Let me introduce y’all to Frank. Frank is my Desert Eagle .50AE. I have had this weapon for many years. That day marks only the second time I had to bring it out in a threatening situation. This weapon is fired quite regularly out at my property, as well a my others. Does no good to own weapons if you are not a good shot and are not prepped to use it. I have possessed my concealed carry license for many years. I believe that I have the right to legally defend my family, myself, and what belongs to me. I am not a gun nut and I don’t believe a gun is the right choice for many people. After my incident, I spent some time reflecting. Everything that occurred finally sunk in yesterday and really got me to thinking.First, I verified my will was up to speed and current. It is. Second, I thought about what my wife and kids life would be like without me. And last, how lucky I was this dumbass was such a dumbass. I am very lucky he didn’t stab me and then rob me while I bled out in the parking lot. Collectively, all went well. I will miss the money from my part time job. I did learn something about myself also, and that is I need to take life a bit more seriously. I am in full understanding that I could have been seriously injured or killed the other night. My wife was curious as to how much cash I actually had in my wallet that evening. It was a very disappointing $4.00 and a gas receipt. Pitiful that I had so little to offer this criminal.

Yes, I did press charges. He was charged with attempted robbery with a deadly weapon, illegal possession of a weapon, public intoxication, and failure to produce identification. The officer did mention he had a few outstanding felony warrants also. This guy will appear before the judge on Friday, I am seriously thinking about attending the hearing.

What did I learn from all of this? Its hard to say. I am glad I have had the training I have had, military and otherwise. I am glad I was able to contain the situation. Most of all, I am glad that my wife and kids still serve as this little voice in the back of my head that tells me they are waiting at home for me, don’t be too long. The lesson I would like to pass on is that a prepared person still feels the presences of fear but uses it to control his emotions. Sure, I was humored then and as I write this I get a smile on my face simply because I remember the look on his face when I turned the table. When it is all said and done, I am very lucky he was not any good at what he does, very lucky.

As far as the title to this post, it came to me as I was reminded of a time playing with my son a few years ago. We were play sword fighting in the living room. After my son lost a few times, he went back to him room for a while. He came out and we had another sword fight, but it had a twist, he pulled out his Nerf pistol and shot me while my guard was down. He asked why I brought a sword to a gunfight. Good question son, real good question. Why indeed.