What do running, online dating and my father have in common?

My father has this habit of answering rhetorical questions.

For instance, when my brother asked me to enter a six-mile race with him last spring, I said, “Maybe. The four-mile one wasn’t too bad. When I run, I just have to find my pace. I mean, six miles… four miles – what’s the difference?”

And my father answered, “Oh – two miles!” and shrugged.

But it seems a lot of people make that mistake. Like the folks at Incredimail who kicked off their latest press release with the following question:

“What do pocket protectors, protractors and slide rulers have to do with online romance?”

They answered, “These days, nothing!”

I hope whoever wrote that shrugged before continuing: “It used to be that only those thought of as geeks and nerds -- losers, if you will -- went online to find love. Now, it's better, faster, more economical and well, just easier to go online and find that potential mate.”

I agree with their approach. If I were promoting IncrediWorld, a new medium that encourages people to “look-up, meet-up and hook-up online,” I would definitely remind them that “losers” are likely users.

Oh, but who am I to say that, you know? Who am I?

No one!

Famous last words.

Growing up in Northeast Pennsylvania, my father would occasionally line up old bottles and cans in the woods and let me and my brother shoot at them with loaded guns.

One time, as I was leaning across the hood of our Dodge Raider, aiming at an old vanity light bulb propped on a rock 20 yards away, my father took the pistol out of my hands and said, “You’re holding it all crooked! You’re going to shoot the car!!”

And immediately after saying that, he of course shot the car – the bottom of the passenger door to be precise. He narrowly missed his own foot.

I was about nine at the time and I didn’t know what irony was, but I made a mental note that I was going to find that day really funny in about 15 years.

Given my history with firearms, I’m concerned that someone dubbed the “Millionaire Patriot” is providing a "Springfield Armory XD Pistol free of charge to the first 5,000 law-abiding citizens who take advantage of his offer.”

And if the release wasn’t enough - I’m especially concerned with the Front Sight Firearms Training Institute’s Web site banner, which seems to feature five photos of the Millionaire Patriot pretending to be a secret agent man.

He better hope that my father doesn’t find out about this offer – you know, for his car’s sake.

Melting my resolutions away.

One of my resolutions this past year was to get in shape.

“I’m going to run,” I told my brother. “I want to do a race.”

“You know you actually have to run those,” he told me. “Wait. Do you even know how to run?”

And when he saw how upset I got, he said, “Well seriously. Do you?”

Undeterred, my mother and I went to Dick’s Sporting Goods later that day and tried on the cheapest pair of running sneakers we could find. They were neon orange and for the first time in my life I said, “I don’t care what they look like, I just want them to fit,” to the sales clerk.

On our way out the door, we ran into my father and my brother, who were supposed to be clear across town picking out a new refrigerator, but somehow ended up at Dick’s looking for us.

“Hey! What you got there?” my dad asked and pointed at my bag.

“Running sneakers,” I told him.

“Running sneakers?!” he screeched. “You run?! Oh I gotta see this.”

Motivated by aggravation and pure spite I ran for miles each day over the next two weeks and I stopped only when my knee swelled so much that I couldn’t walk down stairs and part of the sole of my foot rubbed off and I had to limp.

But long story short - I kept the resolution. I even ran a 4 mile race in April and managed to get on the 11 o’clock local news. I was the girl who nearly ran into the camera man as I tried to avoid plowing over the person in front of me who tripped over a curb.

I was distracted because seconds before the race started my brother said to me, “Does your head ever pop?”

And I said, “What the heck are you talking about?”

And he said, “You know - like popping your knuckles, but in your head.”

“No, I don’t know.”

He shrugged. “Happens to me all the time.”

And then he took off sprinting while I shouted, “No seriously, you should get that checked out! That shit aint right!”

And that’s when someone else fell in my path, and I hopped over him - all while the news anchor taunted us with something like, “Oh watch, don’t trip!” on television.

But luckily I won’t have to put myself through that trauma again, thanks to a helpful New Year’s resolution suggestion from The Melting Pot.

“Rather than falling into the annual trap of resolving (and then failing) to lose weight, get out of debt or start to exercise, The Melting Pot agrees with recent polls conducted by General Nutrition Centers, Quicken and others that show that more than 50 percent of Americans vow to appreciate loved ones and spend more time with family and friends this year.”

Precisely. Who needs to pay their student loans when there’s a vat of cheese needing attention?

In keeping with this suggestion, I lugged out a fondue pot from the back of my closet, bought six types of vegetables and a Sterno can.

My girlfriends are coming over on Dec. 31 and this year’s theme is “New Year’s Cheese.”

Running can wait until 2009.