Tag: girl

Dating Application

Photo: Dimitri Vervitsiotis/Photodisc/Getty Images

Application to Date My Daughter

NOTE: This application will be considered incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a complete financial statement, job history, family lineage, and current medical report from your doctor.

— SECTION 1 : GENERAL INFORMATION —

  • FULL NAME ___________________________________________________
  • NICKNAMES ___________________________________________________
  • “STREET” NAMES _________________________________________________
  • Explain why you have these nicknames _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
  • AGE ______ DATE OF BIRTH _________________
  • Is your date of birth within 2 years of my daughter’s? ___Yes __ No
  • HEIGHT ______________
  • WEIGHT ______________
  • IQ _____________ GPA _____________
  • SOCIAL SECURITY # _________________
  • DRIVERS LICENSE # _____________________
  • SELECTIVE SERVICE #____________________
  • Boy Scout rank and highest badges earned ____________________________________________
  • HOME ADDRESS ___________________________
  • CITY/STATE ______________ ZIP ___________

Do you have 2 parents? ___ Yes ___ No
Is one male and the other female? ___ Yes ___ No
If Not, explain:__________________________________________

Are your parents married? ____ Yes ___ No
Number of years they have been married _______
If less than your age, explain ______________________________________________

Where do you live?

  • ___ with my parents
  • ___ in a dorm room
  • ___ with friends
  • ___ have my own place
  • ___ with my ex
  • ___ wherever, dude

— SECTION 2: LIFESTYLE —

Do you own or have access to:
   a van? ___ Yes ___ No
   a truck with oversized tires? ___ Yes ___ No
   a waterbed? ___ Yes ___ No

Do you have:
   a tattoo? ___ Yes ___ No
   an earring, nose ring or any other piercing? ___ Yes ___ No
   (pierced tongue, pierced nipples or an ear gauge?)

Do you:
   Use tobacco? ___ Yes ___ No
   Smoke weed? ___ Yes ___ No
   Drink alcohol? ___ Yes ___ No
   Huff? ___ Yes ___ No
   Take drugs? ___ Yes ___ No
   Have sex regularly? ___ Yes ___ No

NOTE: IF YOU ANSWERED ‘YES’ TO ANY OF THE ABOVE QUESTIONS, YOU MAY DISCONTINUE YOUR APPLICATION AND LEAVE PREMISES QUICKLY AND IMMEDIATELY.

— SECTION 3: ESSAY questions —

Describe in 50 words or less, what ‘LATE’ means to you. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Describe in 50 words or less, what ‘DON’T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER’ means to you.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Describe in 50 words or less, what ‘ABSTINENCE’ means to you.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

— SECTION 4: REFERENCES —

Church you attend ______________________________________________________

How often do you attend? ______________________________________________________

When would be the best time to meet your:

father? _____________

mother? _____________

doctor? _____________

Youth minister?____________

teachers?_______________

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What A Man Wears

or – the effect of a pretty girl on men’s clothing

A WalMart cashier

Human Psychology says that what clothing a man wears is very dependent on the reward he expects to receive in return for any extra effort it takes to look a little better. In other words, the greater the potential of reward, the better a man will dress. However, there is a conflicting theory that says as a man grows older, he couldn’t care less what he looks like, regardless of the potential of reward.

  Let’s look at an example. Given the potential to interact with the pretty girl (pictured), and the effects of aging, here are my observations on men dressing:

The Situation:

   You are in the middle of some kind of fix-up project around the house, such as mowing the lawn, putting in a new fence, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot and sweaty, covered in dirt or paint. You have your old “work clothes” on, and you know exactly the outfit I’m talking about: that old Boy George and the Culture Club t-shirt with yellowed armpits, the shorts with the hole in the crotch, and an old pair of white tennis shoes, the toes of which are grass-stained green.

   Right in the middle of the most crucial part of your home improvement project, you realize you need to run to WalMart to get something to complete the job. Since you will have to inter-act with people, you will do one of the following depending on your age:

   You stop what you are doing. Take a shower. Shave. Blow-dry your hair. Brush your teeth. Floss. Gargle. Put on neat, clean, leisure-lifestyle clothes. You check your face and your abs in the mirror and flex your biceps. You add a splash of your cheap cologne Aunt Margaret bought you for your birthday. You never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. Actually, it turns out you go to school with the pretty girl running the register.

   You stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and polo shirt. Change your shoes. You married the hot chick who worked the WalMart register, so there’s no need to be prowling around. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. You still got it. To cover the smell of sweat, you add a shot of your AXE cologne – which you can afford now that you have a job. The cute girl running the register is the younger sister to someone you went to high school with.

   You stop what you are doing. You put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the broken zipper of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat to cover your mussed hair. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute cologne is almost empty and you don’t want to waste any of it on a trip to WalMart. Check yourself in the mirror and do more belly-sucking-in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register at WalMart is your daughter’s age and you feel kind of creepy for just talking to her. You wonder how many guys think your daughter is just as spicy.

   You stop what you are doing. Put a hat on to cover your hair loss, wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don’t want to track dirt into your brand new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror. Swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it accentuates your man-boobs. The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have what it takes. What you don’t realize is that the T shirt you have on is from your buddy’s bait shop and it says, “I Got Worms.”

   You stop what you are doing. Realize that you need to go to WalMart to get something you’ll need to finish the job. Don’t bother with your face or your shirt — why would you? You haven’t bothered to check yourself in the mirror since you turned 58. There is no need for a hat anymore, either. Hose the dog poop off your shoes. As you drive to the WalMart, you remember there’s a hole in your shorts and you hope you have some underwear on.

   You forget what you are doing. Remember what you were doing. Start doing it again. Remember why you stopped the first time. You decide to wait to go to Walmart until you go in the house and get your prescriptions so you can have them filled at the same time. Don’t see, smell, or even care that there is dog poop on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her grandfather who recently passed away.

  You stop what you were doing. Rest. Start again. Then stop again. Rest. Now you remember that you need to go to WalMart for something to finish the job. Go to WalMart and wander around trying to remember what it was you came for. Fart out loud and turn around because you think someone called out your name. Leave streaks of dog poop off your shoes from the front to the back of the store. Stop to talk to the decrepit, crotchety old lady that greeted you at the front door and discover that she went to school with you.

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I’m Here to Pick Up Rachael

A true Story

My daughter is a very social girl and is always being invited to parties. This week, she’s invited to this girl’s birthday party, that girl’s Summer cookout, and another girl’s sleepover. The trouble is, we don’t find out about a Friday-night-to-Saturday-morning sleepover until after school late on the Friday of. Then it’s, “You didn’t get me a present to take to the party? Yes, I did, I told you two weeks ago that Vicky’s birthday was sometime this month, and she said she was going to invite me if she had a party…” Somehow, there is special coding in the previous sentence that translates to “I’d like to attend Vicky’s slumber party on the 15th starting at six o’clock Friday evening and ending around 9:00 Saturday morning.”

   Regardless, this was one of those days. Except it was a day party on a Sunday. We darted out of the church house as soon as the last note was sung, had to run to Wal Mart and purchase a present, wrap it with tape and tissue paper purchased at the Dollar Store, get Rachael to sign a Drug Store birthday card, and deliver our daughter with a wrapped present and card to the door of her friend’s house, hopefully before noon.

   We barely made it. We told Rachael we would pick her up 7:00 p.m. before the evening service at church.

   The weather turned off bad that evening. It got cold and dark, and started to rain. My wife pulled in the driveway and instructed me to go in and get our daughter. I dashed through the rain and rang the doorbell. The man of the house answered the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” he said.

I said, “I’m here to pick up Rachael.”

“Oh, okay” he said, and he looked a little disappointed. “She’s in the kitchen,” he told me.

“Rachael,” he called, “There’s a man here to pick you up.” Then to me, “She’ll be right out.”

So I stood there, exchanging pleasantries with the man; Where do you work? Have you lived here long? How many children do you have? That kind of chatter. Eventually, a nice-looking lady with long black hair came out of the kitchen and asked me, “Who are you, again and where are you taking me?”

I clarified, “I’m here to pick up Rachael.”

“Yes, I’m Rachel,” she said. And the man added, “my wife, Rachel.”

“I’m here for my daughter, Rachael.” They both looked confused.

“She’s supposed to be at a party at Anna’s?” I added.

“Oh, Anna lives next door!” they said with a huge sigh of relief. We all shared an embarrassing laugh. I apologized for the inconvenience I had done them, and bid them good night.

However, I thought I heard him say as he shut the door behind me, “So, is there something we need to talk about?”

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