Must have been my lucky day. Returning from lunch, I discovered three phone messages that turned out to be worth their weight in chuckles.

The first was from a Mr. Barrister. He turned out to be an attorney.

The second was from a Mr. Wheelwright. He runs a gas station where they fix flats and pound out the dents in battered rims.

The third was from a Mrs. Cash. She works for a money market fund.

I call these Perfect Fit Last Names -- monikers that are so appropriate to what the bearer does for a living that they couldn't be more accurate if they tried.

In my travels, I've run into many PFLNs as good as those above.

I once interviewed a man who owned a minor league baseball team. His surname was Thurd. As in base.

Another time, I interviewed a county councilman in Arizona. He had a name that any politician would rue: Harold Lyre.

PFLN's abound in the medical profession. I once met a surgeon named Arnold Surgeon. One of his colleagues was named Harvey Blood. And how about a psychiatrist named Robert Skullman? Can you imagine how many "shrink" jokes he's heard?

Virginia H. Guidi of Alexandria writes to pass along a few more PFLN's worthy of the hall of fame.

Right here at Postland, Virginia notes that Carole Sugarman writes for our food section.

Years ago, in Detroit, Virginia says there was a podiatrist named Dr. Smelsy.

More recently, Virginia ran into a woman named Mrs. Button in a fabric store.

Got any PFLN's you'd like to share? Mail 'em in, and I'll publish them. True ones only please.