So... do you think this will really work?

https://www.catalogchoice.org/

You are supposed to able to create a profile and then elect not to receive catalogs from anyone who is sending you one currently. Since I'm a huge sucker for not getting mail I threw caution to the wind and signed up. I love the mission and they are endorsed by everyone and their dog (including hopefully me soon) but what if a business does not volunteer to sign up with this service?

I bet there is math out there that proves it's more profitable to send millions or catalogs out, have 999,000 end up in some landfill - meaning the other 1,000 get used to buy stuff - than to let people opt out. I mean if you don't get the catalog, how are you going to know you can spend money on this retailer? You get the idea.

Shit, here's hoping it works.

NOTE - I did not have to provide my full name in my profile so I didn't.

Every once in a while something comes along that you just know will not be a flash in the pan and this - for sure - falls into that category.

Xobni is an add-in for Microsoft Outlook that is amazing. It indexes all your email and displays relevant, contextual information in the Xobni bar no matter what you are doing be it messing with your mail, calendar, tasks, contacts, whatever.

Already with Windows Vista and Outlook 2007 it's hardly necessary to file messages into folders as the native search in Vista is so powerful but this takes it to the next level. Now you can see stuff like how many messages you have sent to a particular person, what dime of day you usually correspond, your recent correspondence, what attachments you have sent back and forth (I LOVE this feature, no more hunting for messages to find attachments!) and much, much more.

And the best thing? It's so intuitive to use! I had almost no learning curve and was able to just reap the benefits. Gotta love that. Nothing worse than some obscure tool for power users only. Except for that power user obviously but hey, it's never going to get much traction if it's insanely complicated.

I heard that as soon as Microsoft saw this they began to incorporate all of the features into the next version of Office. Duh...

I already love cheese and I just discovered another one that is to die for. Trader Joe's Cave Aged Gruyere.

But I had to know, what the hell does 'cave aged' mean? So I went and found out. No wonder I like it. Take an already fantastic cheese - Swiss Gruyere - lovingly place it in a sandstone cave (or warehouse not doubt - but I'm sticking with the cave image no matter what) and let it get all crumbly, sharp and oh so delicious for 12 MONTHS. Think of a sharp, white cheddar and you'll start to get the picture. Only this is better.

Three more words: tastes like more.

So I get a new pair of shoes, okay? Nothing special, just a pair of black, leather, sorta nice, slip-on shoes. Last Monday I wore them to work for the first time; along with a pair of good looking jeans and long sleeve shirt.

A couple of days ago while I'm helping one of our staff with a computer problem she says to me, "How come you were all dressed up the other day? You're not interviewing are you?"

?!

It made me realize that my work 'uniform' basically is raggedy-ass faded jeans, any old top and either slip-on Vans or Converse in the winter or shorts and a T-shirt (same shoes) in the summer. Throw in some fabulous cycling socks and I look like a hobo eight hours a day, five days a week.

It was kind of a wake up call as I'm usually the guy making superior fashion judgments about anyone I pass on the street. :( Now who's laughing. Not me. That was rhetorical.

• Anyone with a sunburn. Especially those with a burn in the pattern of a bathing suit they have not worn in 12 months or the shoulder straps of a tank top. Not to be confused with the person that has too much sun and looks like a well-tanned piece of cow hide; that's an aging Caucasian local or transplant.
• The guy walking along the beach with his boogie board or surf board leash attached to his wrist or ankle.
• Anyone with pants that zip off at the knee.
• Anyone with a hat that is made of high-tech fabric and is supposed to wick moisture away from your head.
• Most anyone in a Hawaiian shirt when it's not a special occasion.
• The woman walking down the street wearing a flower lei.
• The woman walking down the street wearing a flower lei like a necklace instead of letting it hang down in back as well as in front.
• Anyone with a camera.
• Just about anyone applying sun screen.
• Pretty much anyone in any sandals other than zories. Locals don't wear Tevas, Keens, Chacos or anything with buckles or Velcro straps.
• Anyone wearing socks. Like that guy with the hi-tech Eddy Bauer hat in the zip-off pants wearing white, crew length 'athletic' socks in his Teva sandals... yikes.
• All those people that bring a HUGE bag of accessories to the beach filled with stuff like sun block, a camera, books, the legs of zip-off pants in case it gets cold...
• Anyone that wears a raincoat when it rains. All the locals know it's 1) warm rain and 2) that it will stop very soon and all they have to do is hang out for five or 10 minutes.
• Anyone driving a convertible Ford Mustang. Actually, anyone driving any Ford Mustang at all; they're all rental cars on Kauai.
• People who check the weather forecast. What's to check? In the winter it ranges between 65-78 and in the summer it ranges between 70-82. It's gonna rain somewhere on the island every day and there will probably be wind. Get used to it.
• People who think what the locals speak is called "Pigeon English" instead of pidgin.
• Anyone that gets upset when you schedule a meeting for 4 in the afternoon and the other party is not there at 4:05.
• Seemingly anyone worried about their hair; like keeping it in place or coloring it.
• People who suggest the pool when someone asks, "Where should we go swimming today?"

"I think you're all fucked in the head. We're ten hours from the fucking fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun. We're all gonna have so much fucking fun we'll need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles. You'll be whistling 'Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah' out of you're assholes! "

56.

Never, in all my years of college, high school (hell, ANY school) did I think I would ever utter these words. Now that I'm out of school and doing my own thing it seems I can't sleep in if my life depends on it. Thinking back it might have started when I began going to the gym early in the morning with a friend about 10 years ago but really, is this kind of thing truly learned or are there just morning people and evening people?

Since that day way back when I have been getting up at around 5 am on most weekdays on a fairly regular basis and now come the weekend or, heaven forbid, a vacation where you are fully, 100 percent able to sleep in I am unable to do so. Like today. I woke up at 5 and finally got out of bed at 6 and now I'm sitting here typing.

If you ask Shelley the answer is clear. I'm a morning person (read: freak, weirdo) and she's normal. On weekdays I regularly get home from the gym and she's still in bed. On weekends she can wake up to tell me goodbye as I leave for a ride, roll over and be asleep in a heartbeat. In fact, she'll set her alarm on the weekends just so she can turn it off and go back to sleep with the feeling of satisfaction that she does not need to get up. Not me. Once that alarm goes off I'm done for. Even if I just have to get up at 4 or 5 to visit the bathroom I'm finished. I'll go back to bed but just lie there staring a the ceiling.

You might say, "Martin, why are you fighting this? Think of all the extra time you have each day that most other people don't." Well it's not exactly like that you see... I might wake up early but then come 8 pm; unless I'm actively doing something, I shut down pretty fast. We'll be watching a movie or (trying to) read books when all of a sudden my head hits the couch/pillow. The only exceptions seem to be when we're out with friends, at a party, you know, doing stuff. Sadly there is one other exception; the computer. I can sit and mess with shit for hours it seems. There have been times when my ability to stay awake in front of the glowing LCD has been kinda ridiculous in fact.

On those days when I don't get to bed until late and only get six (or five or four) or so hours of sleep I still seem to do okay. I'm not one of those people that has a second job at night or some massive hobby they do when everyone else in the house falls asleep but I do seem to do alright with less sleep than some.

But sometimes I really want to sleep in... I have vivid (and fond) memories of being able to shut my eyes, go back to sleep and then have breakfast at lunch time. Plus, there are times when your body just needs more sleep. Mine needs it too but it refuses to get it. Thinking back I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say seven hours is the most I have slept in years. What's that you say? Eight is normal? Whatever.

If this is one of the affects of aging I guess it could be a lot worse. I could be going to the bathroom not just at 4 but at 2, 2:45, 3:30... you get the idea.

See, now this is where this gets funny. So I'll put away my hanky from that last post and tell you the sad, pathetic story of my unrequited teen years.

As luck would have it, I ended up going to school on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. Incline Village to be exact. From about 2nd grade on. Not until I reach 6th grade did I realize the wonder that was Grady Clifford. He played drums in my band class. Clifford, meaning Doug Clifford. Cosmo. Not that I even grasped that fact at the time. He just played drums and I played clarinet. Was there ever a more sexy instrument than clarinet? Just ask Benny Goodman.  So he was like the pinnacle of hotness and he dated some chick named Cindy and they made out in the back of the bus all the way down to the Nevada Band-Off or whatever the hell the field trip and I drowned my sorrows in Twizzlers. Such is love at 14. I carried a torch for Grady for a year or two. Until the time one winter where I actually got to ride up the ski lift with him. OK. Yes. Here was Shelley's big moment. The culmination of all my dreamy ruminations in my girly bedroom, painting my toenails and tracing his initials on my Keds. The moment I had dreamed of for all of 1986. My girlfriend (who was TECHNICALLY DATING HIM at the time) let us take a lift ride together. And what did I do? All that time imagining the day we would actually come face to face. Applying makeup in my Clairol mirror just so with the blue eyeliner, just a touch of the shimmer pink lipstick.

Total silence.

I did not say one word the entire ride. All the way to the top of the lift. Zip.

And that was that.

He went left, I went right.

Isn't that weird? If I wasn't a sad, sad, confused teenager, I'd really beat myself up about that one. But I'm beginning to forgive myself for being a complete douche between the ages of 12 to 19. I know, 19 seems beyond the douche cut-off but break me off, eh?

Anyway. I wonder sometimes what Grady Clifford is doing and if he knows that he had any effect on a silly retarded girl from junior high. My guess is no but then maybe. Just maybe.