Teenage Girls

I am the very proud father of two beautiful teenage daughters. That said, I do NOT want to know about their cycles, choice of music (which I think sucks of course), boyfriend troubles…ad nauseum…

Of course, my wife, the lovely Mrs X, decides that, last week, I get to drive daughter #2 to the drug store to buy panty hose. Then asks do I know what kind.

TMI! TMI! TMI! It’s as bad as when she made me go buy feminine hygiene products for the girls…and insisted I get the right ones.

Tonight, since I had told daughter #2 previously that she could dye her hair as long as it wasn’t some weird color like blue or green, Mrs X took her to the store and bought some jet black hair dye.

The two of them then proceeded into the depths of the bathroom to dye her hair.

They finish. It looks good to me, but, then again, I’m a guy.

Daughter #2 go’s to play in a school concert and calls from the band room to say that her and her friends have discovered that the dye did NOT cover all of her hair. So, she now had black hair with blonde streaks.

My reaction? I told the wife…fine, when you pick her up take her back to the store and get another dye kit and redo it.

Mrs X looks at me and says, "You’re picking her up…you take her to the store.


Off Xploder goes to pick up the lovely daughter #2 and then proceeds to the store. We finally find the same exact shade, pay and then leave.

We get home, Mrs X and daughter #2 go back into the bathroom to redo the dye job.

Not TWO minutes later, I hear the wife call “Bill? Can you come here for a minute?”

I proceed there and patiently wait out in the hallway until Mrs X tells me to come on in as daughter #2 is dressed.

I go in. Mrs X looks me STRAIGHT in the eye and says…

Are we doing this right?

I, of course, am completely befuddled. I look back at my lovely wife and say the following…

“What??? You’re asking ME if YOU’RE doing this right??? Are there directions?? What?? Look, dammit, I’m a guy! I’ve never dyed my hair in my freaking LIFE! Why are you asking ME this??”

She then looks at me and says…

“I wanted you to look and make sure we were getting all the un-dyed spots dyed.”

I, of course, then turned around and went back to what I was doing.

Sheesh…and women think that men are weird because we like to take all day to change the oil because we’re drinking beer at the same time.

Okay. My semi-rant is now concluded. You may now return to your regularly scheduled surfing.

Xploder, it could always be worse. For years, my father filled my birth-control prescriptions.


I love it when I get asked ‘So, do these colours go together?’. I can see and distinguish somewhere in the area of eight or nine colours. In the beginning, this was a problem. Not anymore…

Mnementh and SO in drug store

M: So what are we looking for?
SO: I want some Honeydew lipstick. Help me look for it.
M: Of course. Just, give it to me in guy colour.
SO: :rolleyes: Yellow.

At this point I look for yellow coloured caps, and then read the label to find out if it’s whatever colour she’s after. It seems to work.

Women, to my nearest reckoning, have several hundred subdivisions of colours for each of my nine. I honestly cant tell ‘blood red’ from ‘bright red’ or ‘rouge’. I never will be able to. :slight_smile:

Ya know, back when I was young and foolish and contemplating reproducing, Missus Coder told me that boys were much easier to raise. She also said that girls were more fun to shop for, and demonstrated this by dragging me through the little girl’s clothes section at the department store, and the pink aisle in the toy section. You know the one - every single box, from the tile to 18 feet overhead, is pink. It’s so pink there, when you finally stagger out the other end, all the other colors look wierd for awhile. :eek:

It was at that point that I resolved to squirt only wrigglers that carried an X chromosome. :rolleyes:

Man, I must be pretty deperate when I see the tag “Teenage Girls” and I click faster than I ever have before. woe is me.

My 14 year old daughter ran up a 900 dollar phone bill. I wish she’d dyed her hair jet-black instead.

That just reminded me…I made Mrs X tell the girls about sex. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I did explain what lesbian and homosexual meant to them though.

They were both pretty blase` about it.

That said, I will NEVER fill my daughter’s birth control prescriptions. Unless, of course, they become sexually active before they turn old enough to do it for themselves. Then I would as I do NOT them to ever think that any form of sex is a “bad” thing.

I still don’t understand why they would ask ME if they were dyeing her hair right or not.

And Mnementh…I run into the same thing all the time.

Dad, can you take me to the store to get a shirt that go’s with these pants?

Ummmm…don’t ALL your shirts go with those pants?

Daughter then looks at me like I just landed from the planet stupid.

Ah kids…ya gotta love them…

Between the two of mine, they ran up a $300 phone bill one month. Thank ghod your’s are YOUR’S.

The question is though…did you take away every damn thing she owned???

I know that I would have.

Oh and Mnementh?

When asked a question such as “Do these two colors go together?”

Just say yes :cool:

You should be used to that by now. :smiley:

Landed? Hell, man, according to the ladies I’m attempting to retain the very culture of planet stupid whilst here on Earth so that when I go back, I’ll have an easier time readjusting to the other non-colour-tellin’ people there!

I no longer get asked if colours go together. Why? I think I responded far too often with “What, you mean they’re different colours?”

You do realize that having a son will not necessarily solve this problem, he said, sitting in his tastefully decorated apartment wearing a pair of tight jeans and a colour-coordinated sweater.

ROFLMAO!!! I actually DO have a son. He’s almost 13 and you never saw a more ‘guy’ type guy in your life. Total bruiser. Unfortunately, he’s gonna grom to be bigger than me so when I tell him to do something he’s gonna look at me ans say “Or what?” And I’m gonna have to say …ummmm…I dunno…yet…

Never fails. Every day I find another reason to be thankful I have only boys. Thanks!

Well, at least daughters don’t go around commenting about toe-jam, leaving stinking sneakers all over the place, farting at every opportunity and thinking it’s funny or just having to have a $6000 ATV that they take out and tear up time and time again or dump in a ditch trying to jump it. Water and hot, running ATV engines don’t mix.

Daughters don’t buy a wreck of a used hot car, spend $1000 on a flashy paint job and another $500 on a stereo system to annoy everyone with 3 blocks with and drive around on mostly bald tires polished with armour all, bad muffler rumbling coolly away and held up by coat hangers, engine getting 15 mpg, leaking oil from the main seal, needing a tune up, but sporting a brand new chrome oil filler cap, chrome valve covers with power windows that you occasionally need to bang on the door to get to work.

Daughters rooms don’t often smell like feet.

At least, this is what my friends with kids tell me.

Heh. Good story, xploder. Your "TMI!"s remind me of an exchange that took place between my sister and me one time when we were teenagers and our parents had gone out for the evening.

14-year-old StraingerSis (pleading): Strainger (not what she really called me), can you take me to the store?
17-year-old Strainger (in his asshole older brother voice): Sigh. What the hell for?
StraingerSis (same pleading voice): To get me some sanitary napkins.
Strainger: Christ, I wish I’d never asked that. All right, let’s go.

Oh joy! Lucky me! I now get to clean all the hair dye up in the tub that daughter left there <grumble, snort> as she already left for school before I realized it.

And can anyone PLEASE tell me why young teenage girls need a suitcase full of different types of makeup? I was standing in the bathroom looking at some of this stuff and have absolutely no clue as to what it’s for.

Christ, I feel like I’m turning into my Dad or something here.

My father was fond of the phrase “LNO, I brought you into this world, and I can TAKE YOU OUT.” (All in good fun, of course. Except for the time that I almost fell off the bridge, but that’s another story.) It was a turning point in my life when he amended that to, “…I can take you out … um, if I have a baseball bat, and, um, you’re looking the other way.”

He also remembered how traumatic it was for my grandfather when my father could beat him at arm-wrestling. With that in mind, I haven’t offered to arm-wrestle my father since I was about ten, just to avoid such a situation.

They don’t? Tell my teenager girls that. Yes, dinner at the Lyllyan household is a cacaphony of bodily noises, each trying to outdo the other in sheer decibel level. The oldest has taken to wearing work shirts obtained from the Goodwill Store. She now has a lovely assortment of mens work apparel with “Red” or “Vincent” cunningly emboidered upon the right breast pocket. The younger complained to me that our puppy had pooped in her room. “Oh really” I said. “How can you tell?”

Well, you know, age and cunning will overcome youth and strength every time! :smiley:

What? Sounds like my (all-female) house growing up. I could outburp most of the boys on our block. :eek: I know, I know, I’ve tarnished my fuzzy little image, haven’t I? :wink:

(I apologize in advance for all the smilies!)