I’m just glad his name wasn’t Charles

Ashley went on a date last night to the mall with a boy from school. She said they were only “hanging out”, but I figured because they had also had lunch together that day, that this was the term all the kids were using these days. In my day it was going out as in when Richard asked me, after the fall dance on September 16, 1988, if I would go out with him. And I replied, “yeah sure, I guess so”, all non-chalant like. You know, as if the hamster in my stomach wasn’t running a marathon on his wheel and my mind wasn’t screaming OH MY GOD, HE ASKED ME! YES, YES, DOUBLE YES!!! I think I bruised his ego a little bit that night. He still won’t look me straight in the eye almost twenty years later and is frequently worried that his butt looks too large in his blue jeans.

Anyways, Ash asked one of us to drive them to the mall and Richard agreed to the task. Because he’s such a menacing looking guy and his little girl was “hanging out with a boy”, I patted him down to check for weapons before they left and made him promise to behave. Don’t say anything stupid! Don’t glare at the boy! For god’s sake put on different pants! Your ass looks enourmous!

Her going out reminded me of my favourite dating joke which is probably TOLD much better than it is read. Just remember that a lot of it rhymes:

A Farmer had three daughters, all of dating age. When young men would come around to the farmhouse to date his girls, The Farmer would meet them at the door with a loaded shotgun and question the suitors as to their plans for the evening. Potential suitors of The Farmer’s daughters soon came to know of this routine, so they would usually have a speech ready when they got to the door.

On this particular night all three of The Farmer’s daughters had a date and as each of the young men arrived they were met with the end of The Farmer’s shotgun and were expected to spit out their lines fast, so the girl’s father could give his approval for the couple to leave.

The first suitor arrived and said:

Hello sir, my name is Freddy
I’m here to pick-up Betty
We’re going to go get some spaghetti
Is she ready?

The Farmer nodded his approval and Betty and Freddy left for their date. A few minutes later the second young man arrived:

Hi there sir, my name is Bo
I’m here to get Flo
We’re going to a show
Is she ready to go?

Again, a nod from The Farmer and the couple left. Lastly, suitor number three came up the front steps and said:

Hello sir, my name is Chuck…

And The Farmer shot him.


————-

Aaaaand, that is why Richard doesn’t own a gun.

Thankfully also, Ashley’s date’s name didn’t rhyme with anything rude. Like Buck, or Kit, or Grondum.

Advertisements

4 responses to this post.

  1. I don’t know what was funnier — the joke or your comment about your husband’s pants and how he should change them because his ass looked enormous. *snort*

    Reply

  2. That’s funny! My dad would clean his guns when boys would come to pick me up. My husband was fearless because he showed up so late to get me that my dad had already left. My dad loves him though.

    Reply

  3. Just catching up on your blog now…you must be doing a great job parenting if your daughter wants you to drive her to the mall WITH her date! Can’t imagine how that feels,having your baby dating, but I hope that I can be just as involved when Megan hits that milestone. In 32 years or so 🙂

    Reply

  4. That is hilarious! You wanna know what’s funny? When I saw the title of your post and then saw your daughter was going on a date, that joke totally popped into my head! How funny…

    Anyway, I stumbled upon your blog via my BlogRush thingy, and I can’t wait to read more!

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: