It is 20 years since 'Clueless' was released, but expressions made popular by the 1995 film (based on Jane Austen's Emma) remain with us. The formidable Cher, played by Alicia Silverstone, wore tartan miniskirts with long socks and held a Bakelite tankard to her ear. Plaid and knee-highs come and go, and mobile phones have slimmed down considerably, but Cher's "whatevers" and "as ifs" float like mutant algae to the surface of each new generation's vocabulary.The movie had such an impact on pop culture that journalist Jen Chaney has published a book to celebrate its two-decade anniversary. As If! The Oral History of Clueless includes a useful glossary. "Whatever" is defined as "you think this requires an explanation?" and "as if" - as if you didn't already know this - means "no way".Other Cher-isms include "way harsh" (extremely hurtful) and "totally buggin'" (freaking out). But perhaps the most perfidious word to have crawled out of the Clueless script and into the mouths of babes and dudes is "random".story_article_left1Random is everywhere. Just this week, while flipping past a random web page, my eye fell on this random headline: "Actors who randomly left Hollywood". How do you randomly leave? Do you choose a path at random, then spin yourself around a few times when you reach a fork in the road so that you can continue in random fashion?I am not the only one bewildered by random happenstance. In an essay for The Awl, writer Paul Hiebert muses at length about the evolution of random from its traditional meaning - "having no definite aim or purpose" - to usage that ranges from inconsequential to rare, absurd, exciting, outcast, distasteful, incongruous and funny.We cannot put all the blame on Clueless. Hiebert traces random's swerve towards "strange" back to computer programmers in the late 1960s, and the Online Etymology Dictionary tells us that random began to acquire a sense of "inferior" or "undesirable" in the 1980s, citing a column by US political journalist William Safire, who wrote that "random" was college slang for a "person who does not belong on our dormitory floor".Hiebert's damning of random ("What is dangerous about this verbal tic, this bad habit, is that it perpetuates a world view of large-scale disorganisation") did not go unpunished. In the comments section, one reader posted: "What I'd really like is a word to describe people who are perpetually surprised and outraged at the continuing mutability of human language." In response to this, another supplied: "Old." Ouch.Random number generation still means exactly what it used to, but random word generation is another toaster of frogs. Some common oxymorons could be called random - I give you the annoying randomness of "almost exactly" and "original copy" - but there is much more fun to be had in finding uncommon randomness. Completely by coincidence, I happened to read a discussion forum that challenged contributors to combine disparate words to make interesting combinations. My favourite was "boneless caviar".story_article_right2Inspired by this, and to avoid falling prey to load rage during a recent blackout, I invented the Random Word Game, which I would like to share with you. All you need is a book and a torch, or even a candle, and you will have such a good time you may petition Eskom to switch off your block more frequently.Here's how it works: sit in total darkness and flip through a book (I used my falling-apart copy of Roget's Thesaurus). Stop at a random page, place your finger randomly on the page, then switch on the torch and see which word you have selected. Switch off torch and repeat, then combine the two words. Three tries gave me "secure gnashing", "pirate gas mask" and "hailstone notoriety".I did not get "hedgehog sandals" or "umbrella trout", sadly, but (all things being random) I'm sure they will turn up one of these dark nights.E-mail your observations on words and language to Sue de Groot on degroots@sundaytimes.co.za or follow her on Twitter @deGrootS1..