A dad's perspective on teen daughter's first formal high school dance.
Just for fun, I'll make a few predictions. This column will include:
1.) A mention of Borsch's own childhood growing up in rural Illinois.
2.) A reference to scaring/intimidating the daughter's date.
3.) His wife will correct him on some simple point of etiquette.
Outta Leftfield
No noogies needed in the lead-up to first formal high school dance
Published: Wednesday, February 09, 2011
By Mike Morsch
GAAAAAAAH!!! Nice shirt.
Most dads — and in this instance, stepdads — have their own set of rules about young suitors knocking on the door and attempting to woo the teenage females of the household. Nobody but the dads pays any attention to these rules, but they should. We know what we’re talking about here because we used to be teenage boys ourselves — albeit a long time ago — and we know what those guys are thinking.
We are heading in the predictable, cliched direction I was hoping for. Bravo, Borsch.
That high school rite of passage — the formal dance — is usually the first opportunity we dads get to employ the rules. My rules aren’t actually for the young men, because they won’t pay any attention to them anyway. No, my rules are for the young women who live under the same roof as I and for those with the same last name as me.
Regardless of whether the "I" and "me" are correct, that was one horrendous sentence. I like how he's placing the burden of responsibility entirely on the female because "boys will be boys."
They are very simple rules and there are only three:
(1) Do not bring home any jamokes like your mom did.
"Jamokes"! I've never heard him say that before.
(2) Exercise due diligence in your advanced scouting of potential suitors.
(3) And rest assured I will embarrass you by giving your date a noogie if there is even a hint of him stepping out of line.
The "advance scouting" thing in #2 smacks of baseball... and what the heck does it mean, anyway? Isn't it basically the same thing as #1? I'm going to count #3 as a fulfillment of one of my predictions.
I’m sure other dads have other rules (some of which have already been turned into a sitcom) that are likely more intimidating than dishing out noogies to knuckleheads.
"Knuckleheads"! I've never heard him say that before. I like how he references the now-defunct John Ritter's now-defunct sitcom, too.
But I believe the embarrassment factor is more effective than, say, a kick in the hind end. With the way the guys wear their pants these days that would end up being a kick in the back of the knees, which is fine by me because I can’t lift my leg up any higher anyway.
Old guy/parent cliche #1 - Complaining about how kids wear their pants so low nowadays.
Because she goes to an all-girls school, Daughter of Blonde Accountant was responsible for securing a date to her first formal dance as a freshman. I’m sure that is a daunting task in and of itself for a 15-year-old, and the end result was that we got down to the week of the dance and her mother and I had very little information about the young man or the upcoming shindig.
The boredom factor here just jumped to 9.
With only 24 hours to go before the big dance, lack of solid information brought out the first threat — that I would give the guy a noogie as soon as he set foot in my house if we didn’t get some more details. Who is he? Where does he go to school? Where does he live? What are the names of his parents?
That noogie joke is SO FUNNY it almost makes me forget that he used it just a couple paragraphs ago!
Well, it all got straightened out eventually and we got our answers. The Blonde Accountant connected with the other mom and the logistics of the evening were formalized.
... Oh. That's... a relief? I guess? I was hoping the situation would provide for some more comical threats and whatnot.
Daughter of Blonde Accountant looked stunning in her formal evening wear as we waited for the young man and his mother to arrive at our house for the picture taking session prior to departing for the dance.
Nice, succinct writing there Borsch.
I know kids love having their pictures taken during milestones in life and I believe the 784 shots that I got of the flower exchange should sufficiently preserve the memory for all those interested.
That number is hilariously high! Over seven hundred pictures! Wahoooo!
I am happy to report that upon first impression, the lad appears to have had the benefit of good genes and stellar parenting. He was tall and handsome, polite, had a firm handshake, was a spiffy dresser and had the same haircut I had in 1975. What’s not to like? No noogie needed, which is good because I probably would have suffered some knuckle damage trying to get through that head of hair.
Thank goodness - I'm so glad everything turned out so well and, you know, unamusing.
The Blonde Accountant was tabbed to drive the early shift, which included a pregame soiree at another house with several other young couples. I was slated to drive the late shift, which as it turned out included an unplanned after-event at a pizza joint.
Show of hands - does anybody still use the phrase "pizza joint"?
Not wanting to intrude, I sat in the car and waited for the kids, listening to ’70s music on the radio and trying to recall my first formal high school dance. I believe my ensemble for the evening included a blue velvet bowtie. I don’t recall the girl’s dad giving me a noogie, so I must have presented well enough despite the tie.
I'm counting that as fulfilling my first prediction. I also like the picture of Borsch sitting forlornly in his car the whole time... wouldn't he just offer to pick them up later?
After we dropped the young man off at his home, Daughter of Blonde Accountant chimed in.
“Did you like him?” she asked.
“Yes, I did,” I answered, heartened that my approval was sought.
That's sad... like an abused dog wagging its tail at a kind word.
“Ya, he’s really nice. And not a jamoke,” she offered.
“No, he’s not a jamoke. Well done,” I said.
“Thanks. Advanced scouting.”
Two explanations for this: 1.) The above exchange is completely made-up; 2.) Daughter is mocking Borsch and he doesn't realize it. The second option is even worse, because it means he ripped off his own daughter earlier in the column.
Atta girl. Sometimes we wonder if our teenagers are listening to us. It’s a comfort to know that they are paying attention.
Even if it's only to secretly mock you, right?
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