A moment ago I picked up the phone. I said "Hello?" (which is standard in Canada). The person on the other end said: "Yeah, is Kyle there?"
Prospective mothers everywhere: Kyle rhymes with bile. You get me? The first thing I think of when I meet someone named Kyle is a splash of puke on the pavement. Don't name your sons Kyle.
In fact, I'm declaring a moratorium on Kyles. My place is an official Kyle-free zone. Why? Because when someone calls me on a Saturday afternoon and asks for Kyle, I get to say "No, sorry, you've got the wrong number". I never want to have to respond this way:
You want to talk to Kyle? Yeah, dude, just a second. Hey Kyle! Yeah, you, loser! Phone for you! Get your ass away from the X-Box and come talk to your friend here! He'll be with you in a second. What? What? PHONE! Someone's on the PHONE, Kyle! Stop playing Morrowind and answer the fucking PHONE!... No, I'm not - I don't CARE if it's a portable, I'm busy over here! It's your friend, Kyle. It's YOUR friend. It's not - I'm not coming over so you can stare at the screen, asshole! Forget about it! Yeah, forget it! Hold on a sec. You're embarrasing yourself in front of your friend here, is what you're doing. Yeah, he's embarrassed for you. What's he gonna think, Kyle? You ever think how it looks when you can't even come to the phone? You know how that looks to other people? It's - what? No, you shut up, Kyle! YOU shut up for a change! He'll call you back.
Now that I think about it, I missed a great opportunity.