When I accused my friend Matt of never reading my weblog, he defended himself by saying he has looked at it — twice. That just so happens to be the exact number of times he has been mentioned in my scintillating entries. (His wife, Sandy — a much more loyal friend and regular reader— alerts him whenever his name appears.) I’m going to start throwing his name in at random, just to force him to take a look now and then.

A friend and her teen-age daughter were having trouble finding their cordless phone. The daughter said, “They should come up with some device to attach it to the other part of the phone.” Science should get its top people working on that.

Being a grammar junkie, I look forward to each issue of Copy Editor newsletter, which covers the picayune matters of language for those of us in the publishing profession. It may sound dull, but it’s an invaluable resource for those of us who grapple with life-or-death matters such as determining whether website is one or two words, or how to pluralize words that come from Latin and Greek (data and media, for instance). The staff even manage to have some fun putting the newsletter together, as evidenced by this headline from the June-July issue: “Possessive’s (just kidding!)”

I would bond with these people.

I'm usually impressed by witty guys. But invariably, after I've award the "witty" label to someone who seems deserving of the honor, I recognize one of his comical remarks as a line from a movie. And then I realize all of his comical remarks have simply been lifted from film dialogue (which was probably written by a very clever woman). I'm told the favorites sources of borrowed one-liners are "Fletch," "Caddyshack" and "So I Married an Ax Murderer." Isn't the supply starting to run low by now?

I once knew a Chinese guy named Ho. I couldn't figure out how to greet him at first. "Hi, Ho" sounded ridiculous. "Hey, Ho" and "Hello, Ho" weren't much better. Realizing my only other option was something stodgy like "Greetings, Ho" (which probably would have made me sound like an alien), I finally settled on "Hi, Ho." I was surprised to find it sounded almost normal, once I got used to it.

It's funny when kids are familiar with certain phrases from the Bible, but aren't quite sure where they come from. During my vacation, I helped Natalie out with a kindergarten class that meets at her church on Wednesday evenings. (Our dynamic duo handled crafts and snacks.) The teacher was reviewing the Bible passage about Jesus calming the storm, and asked the class what He said to stop the wind and rain. "Peace," one child answered. "Be still," another offered. The third response was my favorite: "Let there be stop."

I don't usually like to do the typical touristy things when I visit a new city. But during my trip to St. Louis last week (with my college friend and former roommate, Natalie), I visited the Gateway Arch and accompanying museum. (Want to know anything about Lewis & Clark? Ask me!) I got the impression that a visit to the Arch wasn't merely recommended, but in fact required, lest you be booted out by the locals. Later, when our plans to visit the Missouri Botanical Garden were rained out, we ended up at the historic Union Station, where Natalie and I decided that probably the only St. Louisians (is that a word?) who ever paid a visit were probably entertaining out-of-town guests.

I was disappointed to miss the garden - which I'd heard was spectacular - but kind of enjoyed the rain. When you're from The Valley of the Sun, precipitation in any form is a novelty.

One of the more surreal experiences of my life: sitting in a Sunday School class with Alice Cooper, discussing the topic of carnal Christians.

(Alice Cooper is, by the way, a committed Christian and an all-around nice guy.)

My office voice mail message used to open with what I considered to be a simple, straightforward greeting: “You’ve reached the desk of Karen....” This brought out the smart-aleck in some of my friends, who couldn’t resist leaving messages that began, “Hello, desk. When you see Karen....” So I changed the greeting, reasoning that nobody could give me grief for saying, “You’ve reached my voice mail.”

But this time it was my promise to return calls “shortly” that brought harrassment. “Who are you calling short?” one of my height-challenged friends demanded. “I don’t care how tall you are,” another caller began, barely concealing the mirth he felt at his own cleverness. I recorded a yet another greeting, carefully crafting phrases that would surely put an end to my string of mockery-laden messages. The result was a voice mail masterpiece - professional and friendly, with no fodder for the literal nit-pickers in my midst.

For five blissful weeks, I’ve received messages completely free of ridicule. But now a glitch in our phone system has erased everyone’s greetings, and I’m forced to re-record again. Since I can’t remember any of the masterpiece I created, I’m thinking of throwing the old phrases back in. I’m starting to miss the heckling.

Maybe I complain too much about my hair. When I told a friend that my hair was going through "a difficult stage," he asked, "What - between birth and death?"

My mechanic is one of those rare finds - dependable, honest, and reasonably priced. He was recommended by a co-worker who reasoned, “He’s missing some fingers - that’s a sure sign of a good mechanic.” I was prepared for the slight disfigurement, but not for the volume of his voice. For some reason, he shouts everything he explains to you, even when you’re standing only a foot away. YOUR BRAKES LOOK OKAY (I look around to make sure he’s talking to me, and not someone in the next room), BUT YOU HAVE A TORN CV BOOT THAT’S GONNA NEED TO BE REPLACED. I agree quickly to his recommendations without asking for much explanation, lest I go deaf in the process. He’s either spent too much time around loud car engines, or he has a background in helicopter traffic reporting.