Tag: dinner

Top Ten List – dating my daughter

My daughter may be a grown up, mature woman to you, but to me, even if she’s over 30, she will still be my little girl.

Rule #1: Picking her up
If you pull into my driveway and honk, you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.

Rule #2: Proper attire
   I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they fall off their hips. I want to be fair and open-minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may date my daughter with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, however, in order to ensure that your pants do not “fall off” during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place. ‘Hot pants’, ‘short-shorts’ and ‘topless’ are never acceptable… on either of you.

Rule #3: The Wait
As you sit in my front room, waiting for my daughter to appear, and an hour has passed, do not sigh and fidget or roll your eyes at me. If you want to be on time for a movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup and fixing her hair, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just sitting there, why don’t you do something useful, like change the oil in my car or clean my toilets?

Rule #4: Topics of discussion
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 to hear from you on this subject is: ‘early.’

Rule #5: Lies, drinking, foul language, drugs
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be dim-witted, but on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless master 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.

  • If you are planning on drinking alcohol – don’t.
  • If you plan on using foul language – don’t.
  • If you plan to use drugs – don’t.

If you plan on lying to me about any of the preceding topics – don’t. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and several acres of woodland. Do not lie to me.

Rule #6: Where you may and may not go
The following places are considered appropriate for a date with my daughter:

  • Shoney’s
  • Pizza Hut
  • Taco Bell
  • McDonald’s

– I realize that Denny’s is open 24 hours a day. Eating there between 8:30 a.m. and 10:30 p.m. is OK. Eating there between 10:30 p.m. and 8:30 the next morning is not.

– Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided. Movies that feature chain saws are OK. Disney movies are even better.

The following places are considered inappropriate for a date with my daughter:

  • Places where there are beds
  • places where there are sofas
  • places with anything softer than a wooden stool
  • Places where there is darkness
  • Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or hugging going on
  • Places where the temperature is warm enough to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts

School functions are okay, church is better, Retirement Homes are even better.

Rule #7: Eye and hand contact
   Do not stare at, or touch my daughter inappropriately. You may glance at her, and admire her dress, but you do not stare anywhere below her neck. You may look at her face. You may look in her eyes. But remember, her eyes are not anywhere near her necklace, so you should not be spending a lot of time looking there. Do not touch her ANYWHERE below the neckline either. If you cannot keep your hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them for you.

Rule #8: Sex
   There will not be any.

Rule #9: Your physical well-being
   I was in the military. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a ‘chopper coming in over Mogadishu. When my Battlefield Post-Traumatic Stress starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean and load my guns. For your own well-being, as soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Announce in a loud, clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car and depart – there is no need for you to come inside. I will be awake.

Rule #10: Termination of the relationship
   I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. As long as my daughter understands this, it is fine with me. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date her, and no one else but her, until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

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The “Whump Biscuit” Story

A true story

This is a true story. It happened back around 1992. My wife and I had been married for six years and it was still just the two of us; we didn’t have any children yet.

‘Whump’ biscuits, so named because you ‘whump’ them on the counter to open them.

Now my wife is a great cook. She’s so good, she can make sawdust taste good. But there’s one thing she cannot make — biscuits.

Her mother could make biscuits. Her mother made biscuits that rose a full three inches high and weighed just ounces. Unfortunately, my wife’s biscuits don’t rise so much. In fact, they’re so thin, you can’t cut them in half. You have to use two to make a ham biscuit sandwich. And they weigh nearly a pound a piece. So my wife relies on ‘whump’ biscuits. She just pops open a roll and cooks ’em right up.

If you don’t know, ‘whump’ biscuits come ten to a roll. But we rarely ate more than two or three each at most. Between four and six are just thrown away. So one day, I noticed in the grocery store that ‘whump’ biscuits come in five-packs as well! Well, there’s a budget blessing if ever I saw one. I told her that if she bought the five-packs, we would not have to throw out the extra biscuits that came in a ten-count can, and we would save money. I am so smart!! I bought a couple of cans.

That very night, she made biscuits.

I heard her ‘whump’ open a can of biscuits. Then I heard something disturbing: I thought I heard her whump open another can. “What is she doing?’ I asked myself. But I refrained from entering the ‘Forbidden Zone.’ (The kitchen is off-limits when she cooks). When she finally called me to set the table, I peeked in the oven. My greatest fear was realized – There were TEN biscuits in the oven. My mouth started running, not waiting for my brain to engage. “Why did you open two cans of biscuits?” I asked. “Are you stupid? We’ll only eat five and throw the rest away!” I yelled.

“I’ll teach you about throwing biscuits away!” she countered. Then she took the pan with ten biscuits and tossed it all out in the back yard.

“What are you doing?” I screamed, and I went to pick up the pan from out in the yard. To the side, I saw the neighbors were sitting on their back porch watching as things transpired. I grabbed the pan and headed back to the house. It took about two steps before I realized the pan was still close to 450 degrees hot. I dropped the pan, and kissed my burning fingers. Then to show the pan who was boss, I jumped up and down on it and stomped it till there was no life left in it. I glanced over at the neighbor’s porch. At some point, I don’t know when, they had slipped back into their house and shut the blinds. I left the hot pan and half-cooked biscuits sizzling in the grass and headed back to the house empty-handed.

One of us went to bed hungry that night. I’ll let you guess which one.

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What’s for Dinner?

Fried Chicken Dinner

My wife has an ingenious system for labeling our dinner leftovers.

   When we were first married, she would carefully annotate a label on food storage containers in large, clear letters: “Meatloaf,” or “Pot Roast,” or “Steak and Vegetables,” or “Chicken and Dumplings,” or “Beef Pot Pie.” etc. She knew exactly what we had in the freezer.

  The problem was, every day when I came home from work, she would ask me what did I want for dinner? I never asked for any of those meals. I never told her “meatloaf,” or “pot roast,” or “steak and vegetables.” Let’s face it, leftovers are leftovers, and there’s a reason that they’re ‘left over’.

  That’s when she started labeling the leftovers with the new system. She decided to stock the freezer with the things I like, the things I requested. Today, in our freezer you’ll see a whole variety of labels. You’ll find dinners with neat little tags that say: “Whatever,” “Anything,” “I Don’t Know,” “I Don’t Care,” “Something Good,” or just “Food.” No more frustration at dinner time. Now, no matter what I reply when she asks me what I want for dinner, it’s in there!