I love labels. I especially love labels when they're devised by 'savvy' marketing analysts or pollsters. And the newest target for the corporate marketing dollar? 'Yoga Moms.'

I love this one particularly, not least because I'm totally a Yoga Mama (I prefer the "mama" moniker to "mom," as do most Yoga Mamas; you all may want to make a note of this). In fact, I registered the domain "spa mama.com" years ago and still receive email to some variant of "zen@" said dotcom. And yes, I do a lot of yoga. Yoga Mamas are said to be very particular about eating organic and feeding it to their kids; buying natural products; and we'll pay top dollar for it.

Whoa! Hold on. Maybe I'm not a Yoga Mama after all. Or maybe y'all have it wrong (still taking notes?) In fact, in my market analysis (done among my friends, many of whom I met at prenatal yoga, or at new mama knitting circles, or at the organic foods market, or as kindred spirits on some mama-centric web site), Yoga Mamas aren't willing to pay top dollar for anything organic or natural; in fact, our choices are much more shrewd than that.

My friends are, in fact, always talking about how they're on a budget, or they don't have money for this luxury or that luxury. Most of us don't spend much on our own clothes, for instance, and we're savvy resale shoppers -- often picking up expensive labels, to be sure, but for a fraction of the retail price. While we'll occasionally splurge on treats for ourselves (heck, someone's keeping those manicurists in business, and we love a good glass of Pinot Noir) we're also fanatic 'unit price' comparers and we won't go back to a place that doesn't fit in with a raft of values, from "respectful" to "green" to "treats its employees well." None of us shop at Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. (NYSE:WMT). All of us shop at Trader Joe's.

I love breakfast.

But I'm not a morning person. And when I happen to be out and about, garage saling or running errands or recovering from what I like to call a "mommy hangover," I find myself at a McDonald's. And all I want is breakfast. Somehow the Sausage McMuffin satisfies that need I have for protein, salt, and iron, without making me feel as if I've given my soul to the demons of empty calories.

If it's after 10:30 a.m., though, I'm sunk. And given that I (a health-conscious adult who tends to steer clear of partying 'til the wee hours) want breakfast past 10:30, I can only imagine how much the considerable teenager and, umm, hungover demographics would appreciate being able to eat Sausage McMuffins and hashbrowns and all kinds of other deliciousness at 11 a.m., or 12:30, or even four in the afternoon. I know. Shocking, right?

I've thought since my own teenage years that McDonald's and fast food restaurants of every kind were ignoring a huge consumer need by cutting off breakfast in mid-morning. Now, it seems that McDonald's finally agrees; the news from Jim Skinner's presentation at the Bank of America 36th Annual Investment Conference: breakfast, all day, will soon be here. All that's needed is a change to a new "flexible operating system."

If I were the CEO of McDonald's Corporation (NYSE:MCD), I'd be slapping myself on the forehead. Doh! Why didn't they figure this out sooner? Hello? Customers don't like to be told, "no, you can't have that which you most desire. We made a rule. Breakfast 'til 10:30, not a moment later!" Customers don't come to fast food restaurants because they're looking for discipline, limits, lessons in punctuality. They come to fast food restaurants to satisfy a desire, to indulge their longings for fat, crispy, sweet, bacony sausagey eggy...

That's why I, a health nut, a disbeliever in fast food, might now buy MCD stock. Because offering breakfast all day is an indication that management gets it. McDonald's stock was up 37 cents to $38.15, a 1% increase and a few cents from its 52-week high, on the news today.

I was once a teenager. Really. And I think I was, well, kind of uncool. I was actually a cheerleader, which was totally not cool in the late 80s and early 90s. I wore acid-wash jeans and shoulder pads and penny loafers, which were cool. Then.

So when I tell you that this new Wal-Mart thing is uncool, I should know. Because it looks a lot like me, in 1987. That girl on the left here, in one of the videos on Wal-Mart's new The Hub social networking site for teens, she looks eerily like my best friend, Courtney. Wearing the exact same clothes. Let me say this: in 2006, that is not a good thing.

No, Wal-Mart isn't showing video from the 80s. It's trying to become some cool locale for tweens and teens. You know, where they can discuss fashion and music and -- well, probably not sex. As Brian White pointed out last week, there are so many rules about what teens can do with the home pages the company hopes they will create on the MySpace-type The Hub, why would any cool, edgy teen want to play here? To show off their facility navigating the fashion wasteland of the retail giant's stores?

According to Bob Garfield of Advertising Age, "If well-executed, such an effort might cultivate individual users, gather market intelligence on the group, destigmatize Wal-Mart as a declasse purveyor of unfashionable clothing and establish a beachhead on the web for the fast-approaching digital future ... [but] it's totally not well-executed. It's the most not-well-executed ever."

"We shouldn't tuck anything in, it's so not cool anymore," says the pink-tee and acid-wash-jeans clad "Ashley" on her featured video (clearly not produced, or written, by a teenaged girl named "Ashley"). Nope. And neither are you, Wal-Mart.