He was a bodybuilder with a body like a fireplug. He also had a large collection of guns. Oh, yes. He had a teenaged daughter.

I suggested to him that when a boy comes to pick up his daughter, he should be sitting in his living room with his shirt off, pumped up to the max, and cleaning a shotgun.

He should then ask the boy (it works better if you use a Southern accent) "What time are you going to have my daughter home, boy?"

Likely reply, "Ah, how about 10 o'clock?"

"Ah don't know. That sounds kind of late to me, boy."

"9 O'CLOCK! NO, MAKE THAT 8!"

"DDDAAAADDDDD!!" (Only a daughter can make a 3 letter work sound like it has 3 syllables.)

Me, I'm thankful that I only had to raise sons. I've heard daughters are God's revenge against fathers for their own teen years.