Smart Sacks

I just got an email from Matthew's elementary school with a reminder about "Family Swim Night" and noticed that the cost is either $5 or one food item per person. Food for the swim night, I thought, puzzled? I read further and saw that the food will be donated to the "Smart Sacks" program run by a local food bank. Smart Sacks is a program that gives a backpack full of kid-friendly food to elementary school children at risk of hunger so they have food to eat on the weekend when there is no school breakfast or lunch.

I'm sorry but reading it just brought tears to my eyes. It has honestly never occurred to me that the kids who get subsidized meals at school may actually not have food at home. It breaks my heart to realize that yes, there are actually kids out there who have no food at home, and makes me feel like a moron for living such a sheltered life that it has never ocurred to me.

I know for a fact that it would NEVER occur to my kids; never for one minute of their lives have they had to worry about food other than to complain about what they don't like or to argue about what restaurant they want to go to.

Tonight we'll be talking about it--that's for sure. And we'll also be donating to the Manna Food Bank. If any of you are so inclined you can also donate online.

New Stewart Lewis Book

Hey--if you followed my advice and read Rockstarlet, Augusten Burroughs' assistant Stewart Lewis' first book (apologies, Stewart, for being forever referred to by me as Augusten's assistant...) you will be excited to know that he's written another book, Relative Stranger, to be released this summer.

Also, you can now download a chapter from Augusten's upcoming book, A Wolf At The Table, on his website.

Write it and they will read?

So I'm reading Web Content Report right now and in the "What's Working" section, where they feature random sites, blogs, trends, etc, they mention "The Non-Blogger's Blogger," someone called Mimi Smartypants. They say she decided to keep an online journal of "every silly little thought to enter her entirely too witty 30-year old brain..." which ultimately got published in book form.

Isn't writing every silly little thought to enter one's mind the definition of blogging? What makes her a "non-bloggers blogger"? Apparently what makes her one is the fact that, either by her own initiative or just by chance--it doesn't specify which--her journal entries were eventually published. Web Content Report goes on to say "Yes, everyone has a blog now...(but) everything this young woman writes down is colored with humor and shaded with charisma." Um, isn't that true of almost every blog worth reading? What makes her so special her blog is--to steal a phrase from Seinfeld--"book-worthy"?

I guess this is hardly a new trend and surely this isn't the only blog-to-book success story but I guess it's the first I've heard of it. My question is how do you luck into the ultimate fuck it off way of getting a book deal? I guess using phrases like "fuck it off" probably don't enhance the odds that some philanthropic publisher will decide your online ramblings are something that would be gobbled up by the masses in print form.

Or who knows--maybe they would be intrigued by the fuck it off philosophy--after all, isn't it just another way of following "The Secret"? God knows that philosophy was apparently book-worthy, not to mention DVD-worthy and product-worthy to the tune of millions. But then again, what better proof is there that The Secret--or, better stated, my beloved Augusten Burroughs' "Magical Thinking"--works? Write it and they will read it...and pay tons for the privilege.

Anyway, since it is highly unlikely HarperCollins will happen to stumble upon my blog and decide I'm the next Bridget Jones I guess I better return to the writing I'm getting paid to do--which, at this particular moment is writing a "news item" about the availability and purpose of the online financial reporting capabilities. Then another news item about the inclement weather policy and yet another detailing the ins and outs of reporting partial day leave. Maybe those gems will be book-worthy.

Sadly the black vs white dance off didn't happen because Matthew refuses to go into Blockbuster. He has an irrational fear of seeing "Chuckie"--that goofy red-haired doll in Child's Play. Crazy. Anyway, I think I'll have to order the movies from Netflix because the chances of getting him inside Blockbuster are slim to none. All thanks to Mimi once--like 4 years ago--helpfully pointing out the cover of that particular DVD which features, even on the spine, Chuckie's face.

Mimi herself used to have a mortal fear of Chuckie, too, but I think she's over it now. Her current fears/obsessions are staph infections and, she announced today, brown recluse spider bites. Go figure. Oh, and thanks YouTube for providing fodder for her irrational fears.

Lately I've come to the conclusion that Mimi is actually Wednesday Adams' doppelganger--at least in terms of personality. While other girls are happily playing Club Penguin or some virtual pony game, Mimi is inexplicably googling stuff like "staff infections" and "brown recluse bites." Warm and fuzzy she is not, but she is oddly entertaining.

Speaking of entertaining, Patrick and I went to see Untraceable today and it ROCKED. I swear it was as good as The Silence of the Lambs. I gave it a straight up 10, but Patrick gave it only a 7--one point off because of a scene portraying something disgustingly cruel to animals (it was gross and sad) and the other two points off for Diane Lane's character doing something stupid at the end. I wasn't really expecting much because Yahoo gave it a C- but I definitely give it an A.

I thought it was very well done and very suspenseful. It does make you think about the whole social media fixation and how small it makes the world seem--or at least it makes me think about it. I won't give away the whole plot, but part of it is that a killer runs streaming video of his victim's deaths and the pace of the torture is dependent on the number of visitors to the site. Just like reality, it goes viral and the number of hits skyrocket--as does the speed with which the victims die.

Anyway, first Mimi, then Patrick and now Matthew are all over me like flies on $hit so I better go put them to bed (except for Patrick).

Ain't nothing going on but the rent here these days. I hate winter. Cassie just called and left me a message (I swear I will call you back today!) telling me how crazy cold it is in Chicago--I'm going to visit her in two weeks. You know that's some sisterly love because I hate being cold more than almost anything in the world. Maybe more than anything--the other things being traffic, crowds and REALLY hot, humid weather. She said I better plan on bringing layers and layers and layers and a face mask. Great. But I'm still looking forward to going, mostly to see her but also because I get to be executive wife and stay in the suite that Patrick gets because he's BMOC now. Sadly I think he's getting the suite without a jacuzzi. Oh well, a free hotel suite is a free hotel suite I guess.

Speaking of free hotel suites, because The Wynn screwed up so many things when we stayed there for our wedding in August the GM has graciously given us two free nights in a Salon Suite . The room in that picture is the room we got married in, actually--in front of that little white half-moon table behind the sofa on the left. The suite has that huge room, a dining table, a wet bar, a powder room, a bedroom and the biggest, fanciest bathroom you've ever seen. Oh--and a massage room. It usually costs $750 a night but we get to stay there for two nights for free because of my flair for complaining.

Why I'm not getting paid to be a professional complainer I don't know because as non-confrontational as I am in regular life, for whatever reason I am very aggressive--er, I mean, assertive--when it comes to service related issues. I've gotten discounts, room upgrades, free food, free champagne, free flowers--once even a box of Godiva chocolates delivered by courier from Lord & Taylor when some sales clerk looked at me wrong back when I was in my postpartum crazy period. I can't for the life of me remember what I had complained about but I honestly think I remember it being because the sales person got my name wrong or some other retrospectively innocuous thing. I do, however, remember the couriered Godiva.

Before this Wynn suite score, which I think trumps anything up to this point, my finest moment was when I got me and Cassie free massages at the Canyon Ranch spa in the Venetian in Las Vegas. All because I complained that I could hear a toilet flush during my massage--that and some construction noise. I'm telling you, ask and you shall receive should always be your motto when you are wronged in any way by a service provider of any sort.

Anyway, in the meantime until we start suite-hopping, we'll probably be either sitting around the house or going to movies. I think we're going to see No Country for Old Men tonight. I have suggested that we also have a black vs. white dance movie dance-off this weekend: Step Up versus Stomp the Yard. Which one do you think will win?

Ambien

I was totally shocked to hear about Heath Ledger's death yesterday. I can't believe he was only 28; somehow he seemed older than that.

I'm curious to hear what the results of the autopsy are; supposedly it will be about 10 days before they're released. The only thing they seem to be reporting is that he had a bottle of sleeping pills near his bed but it doesn't appear to be a suicide. That strikes me as a little alarming, given that almost every woman I know has problems sleeping and takes some form of “sleep aid”.

I'd be willing to bet that the medication they're talking about with regard to Heath is Ambien. Assuming that’s the case, I'm having a hard time believing that it's possible to "accidentally" take a lethal overdose of Ambien. I have a friend whose boyfriend once took 12--along with a ton of alcohol--but thanks to 911 he survived. Unfortunately, a week or so later he tried harder and succeeded, but it apparently took MANY pills and much alcohol. Maybe I have too much faith in drugs being safe but I can't imagine Ambien is that strong that you could die from taking 3 or 4, and I can't imagine anyone would "accidentally" take more than that. I could see thinking maybe 2 would be safe but would never dream of taking more than that. Ok, actually, I could dream of it if it could make you stay asleep for more than 3 hours but wouldn't be willing to test it.

I do find it interesting that, as I said above, almost every woman I know has admitted to having sleep problems and, in almost every case, taking something to alleviate the problem. Apparently millions of people take Tylenol PM every single night, or the Tylenol-free version of it, which I guess amounts to, what, Benadryl? I always laugh when my British friend refers to them as her "tablets"--don't ask me why. It's a little scary to hear these women talk about the lengths they have to go to just to get a good night's sleep--usually the formula includes varying proportions of red wine and Tylenol PM, sometimes with some melatonin thrown in there to make it more holistic.

I personally am an ardent believer in Ambien but try to only use it if absolutely necessary. My dr. has lately become a little skittish about prescribing it because apparently people are doing all kinds of crazy stuff on it—eating through the entire refrigerator without knowing it and even driving places. I personally think it’s safe as long as you take it and go directly to sleep. If you take it and continue to go about your business waiting for it to kick in—well, that’s where you might run into trouble. I have never done anything like go anywhere or eat through house and home, but I have written stuff I have no recollection of writing, including, once, an entire short story. It definitely can enhance your writing skills, or at least it can mine. If you try it, though, make sure you’re not connected to the internet because you may end up sending emails you have no recollection of sending. Ditto for talking; apparently I’ve had 45 minute conversations with Patrick that I don’t remember the next day.

Anyway, sad about Heath.

I'm home sick today and somehow between yesterday and today I've gotten used to being home. Granted, I feel like crap so that could account for the fact that I'm fine just sitting here in silence doing nothing. Or actually, trying to write something for work that I've been procrastinating for seriously going on 6 full months now. Who would think writing an employee newsletter could be this excruciating? The delay hasn't been entirely my fault, as my boss has told me to put the newsletter aside like 10 times when other projects came in, but still...you'd think I could have worked it into my schedule somehow. I guess if I actually gave a shit it might not be such a chore; somehow writing about the picnic that took place in September just isn't keeping my interest--so I'm sure it probably won't attract anyone elses' interest when and if I ever finish the thing and put it out.

By the way, in case any of you have a particular hatred of Manhattan, you might want to head to the movies. There are now two movies out that feature the total annihilation of the island of Manhattan: I Am Legend and Cloverfield. We saw I Am Legend a month or so ago and it was awesome, although depressing. If you are freaked out by zombies and/or can't deal with sad dog stories you definitely need to skip it; it has plenty of both. Will Smith rocked as always and overall I think we gave it an 8.

Cloverfield--I'm still not sure what I thought of it. As I told Patrick when we left the theater, I give the movie about a 7 but the fun of watching it about a 9. Sitting here now, 4 days later, I realize that it gets about a 0 as far as takeaway value; its entire appeal is the actual experience of watching it. If nothing else it makes you feel old.

Holiday

I can't imagine what I'd do all day if I didn't work. Just this one day is boring and that's with the kids. Then again, maybe that's why the day sucked ;) Just kidding.

But seriously---I used to be home all day, every day and can't remember what I did to pass the time. Actually, now that I think of it, I pretty much felt this way every day back then--but it never occurred to me that maybe I should have gone back to work. Oh well, live and learn....and it's not like work doesn't suck in its own way much of the time too.

The main saving grace about work--aside from the paycheck, of course--is that at least there's stuff going on to make the time pass more quickly than it does if your days are limited to gym trips, Target runs and....actually, that pretty much summed up time when I was home with my kids. Unless you count the part I'm not mentioning, that is, but that's another story for another time and place. At least for me that's how it felt--no offense to women who are home and love it. I wouldn't mind having an hour or two to spend at the gym every day like I used to way back in the day, but not if it meant going back to that way of life.

I'm currently trying to decide which is the lesser of two evils: a job that's busy, challenging and therefore sometimes stressful or a job that's so S-L-O-W and non-taxing that it's ostensibly stress-free. My current job is the latter--occasionally I have something interesting going on but for the most part I'm in kind of a too many cooks in the kitchen situation; e.g. I was hired to do a job (writing) but it turns out that they really didn't need--or want--someone else to share the writing assignments so I've been pretty much left out in the cold with regard to the job I was hired to do. Maybe I shouldn't complain...but of course if you know me you know I do--incessantly.

Every place I've ever worked before I was seen as this essential person, totally competent, everyone praising me and telling me how smart and great I was. I never worked in a company as large as the one I work for now, which, I'm coming to realize, makes a big difference in terms of individual attention and recognition. Now I get some occasional scrap of praise, but for the most part as long as I show up to work every day nobody really cares if I do anything at all--and when I do actually do stuff, most often it goes unnoticed. I admit that lately I've been testing it more and more, trying to see exactly how little work I can do and still get by without reprimand. So far it's turning out that it actually possible to put forth about 5% effort without any ill effects. Translation: my productivity has basically come to a screeching halt and nobody has noticed or commented. Lately I liken my job to Homer Simpsons'--show up to work, sit in a chair all day, go home, then repeat again the next day. Minus the doughnuts, though.

Meanwhile, there's Patrick with a huge job with tons of responsibility and I sort of envy him....I think. There I am at my desk all day, listening to the lightbulbs hum, blogging or what have you while Patrick is negotiating multi-million dollar contracts, putting out constant fires and spending about half his work life in meetings. Yes, he's stressed...but he also makes more than twice as much as I make and very, very rarely has to work evenings or weekends. He does have to put up with a million problems, which I definitely don't envy, and also has to supervise people, which is something I never want to have to worry about.

Anyway, long story short...I don't know if I should just be grateful to have the quintessential government job or if the fact that my job has become numbingly boring means I could do with a little more work even if it meant more stress.

If you already saw this in my sister Cassie's blog no need to read it here, but if you didn't, you need to!

The 25 Most Baffling Toys From Around the World

Make sure to click "next" at the bottom of the first page.

Check your credit report regularly

Patrick and I are refinancing our house. Last week we met with the mortgage guy, who, as part of the application process, printed out a copy of our combined credit report. Lucky for us he did, because otherwise we probably never would have known to scan the entire 15 page document to find one tiny section titled "Inquiry Information." He pointed it out, asking if either of us had applied for a Capitol One credit card on December 26, because Capitol One had inquired with each of the three credit bureaus that day.

He was able to discern that the inquiry had been on my behalf--he could tell because of the initials "CU" after the inquiry; apparently that means "co" something with regard to the loan we're taking. If you ever look at a joint credit report apparently "BU" indicates the primary borrower and "CU" indicates the co-borrower. Just a little identity theft sleuthing tip from me to you.

Anyway, our lender recommended that I call Capitol One to see what the inquiry had been about. Naturally I figured it was nothing, although I knew for sure that I had spent December 26 preping for my colonoscopy the following day and definitely was not trying to open credit card accounts. After a few days of "reminders" from Patrick, I called Capitol One tonight and learned that yes, someone had tried to secure a credit card using my social security number. F*cker.

Patrick will probably have a coronary because his mortal fear is identity theft. He shreds anything with his name and address on it and won't even print our address on our checks. Luckily he's at baseball practice now so he won't have to learn about my brush with identity theft until tomorrow....or sometime.

The good news is that now that I know about that inquiry nobody can mess with my credit. When something like this happens you contact any of the credit bureaus (I called Equifax) and they add a fraud alert notice to your credit report and also notify the other two credit bureaus to do the same. This means that for 90 days nobody can make a move on my credit without me being alerted, and also that I can request an additional free credit report from each credit bureau (everyone is entitled to one free credit report per year from each of the three credit bureaus.)

If you have a police report proving you are a victim of identity theft you can have the credit bureau put an extended fraud alert on your credit history--that one lasts for 7 years. The good thing about that one is, in addition to the fact that nobody can mess with your credit for 7 years, you get an additional 2 free credit reports and your name is removed from prescreened offers of credit or insurance for 5 years. I guess you need to get something out of the deal for having to wade through all this b.s. because someone thought it would be fun and profitable to secure credit in your name.

Anyway, I need to go research how to file the police report, etc...in case you want to do some reading of your own you too can check out the FTC's website about identity theft.

If eye talk freaks you out then skip this post

(and mom, you definitely need to skip it!)

Last Friday I went to get fitted for contacts and spent a dreamy 30 or more minutes roaming the aisles of the grocery store, amazed I could, at long last, clearly see all the way across the store without glasses. I have spent the last 4 years battling glasses--stubbornly thinking that if I didn't give in and put them on for stuff like grocery shopping or movie-watching my eyes would eventually adjust and I'd be able to see perfectly. I can see fine close up and even not so close, but for distances like across a room or a store or whatever I could see but just not clearly enough to make out signs or faces without squinting. I think my vision is about 20/40, which is definitely a functional level of sight, especially when it's bright out or a space is well-lit, but in twilight or darkness, distance vision isn't a picnic.

So now I can see more clearly than I've been able to see for 4 years...ever since I got lasik.

Don't get me wrong--even though I had complications with lasik (DLK and epithelial ingrowth) I think I would do it again. Before lasik I couldn't see my glasses on the nightstand by the bed, couldn't read a book without glasses or contacts--basically couldn't see much at all. It was a horrible feeling, knowing that if I were somewhere and my contact fell out or my glasses broke I'd be up a creek. At least now I could definitely function perfectly well without glasses or contacts if I had to.

But it is still disappointing to have gone through the whole ordeal only to, in the end, be back in contacts. It's not like I went to some low-budget place or anything, either--I went to one of the top eye doctors in the DC area, Neil Martin. Of course I knew there were risks but you never think they'll happen to you, right?

The procedure itself wasn't bad at all, thanks, in part, to good ol' valium. I sat up afterwards and it was a miracle--I could see the clock across the room. I thought I was fine and thought the white fog that covered my field of vision was just part of the normal healing process. The next day at my follow up appointment I learned that it wasn't in fact normal; I had DLK (see above). I had to use special eye drops every 2 hours around the clock for a week--that, in addition to the saline drops I had to use almost constantly because my eyes were dry as prunes.

I went back a week later and the DLK was still there--so I had to use even more drops and go on oral steroids. A few days later the fog seemed to lift some but was replaced with the tiniest hint of a weird sensation. Turns out that sensation was cells growing under the flap--epithelial ingrowth.

I had to have my flaps re-lifted and scraped to remove the cells (see link to epithelial ingrowth page above). It was the most disgusting feeling in the world--imagine the dentist scraping the plaque off your teeth, then apply that same sensation to your eyes. More rounds of drops, etc...finally my eyes were fine and I could see almost perfectly.

Post-lasik vision is a little weird even without complications--something about the contrast of stuff is kind of off so it's harder to see in low light, or to distinguish different shades of green, say, when you're gardening or shades of gray when it's dim and rainy out. I do see the halos around lights, but I think I always must have because it doesn't bother me. The worst part of the lasik aftermath saga was the dry eyes; to this day they're still very dry. They were dry to begin with, which predisposes you to complications from lasik, but Dr. Martin thought I'd be fine. Lately the dryness had gotten much better, but for most of the past 4 years my eyes were dry, dry, dry. I did everything from daily hot compresses, oral antibiotics (to treat blepharitis, which who knows if I even had but they threw every possible fix at me), and all manner of drops and ointments to punctal plugs (tiny plugs they put in your tear ducts to preserve whatever tears you have). I have learned that the remedies for severe dry eyes are not that effective, which doesn't bode well for people with serious, chronic dry eyes. I am lucky that mine pretty much resolved on their own, even though it took over 3 years.

to the tune of needing to use eye drops with mineral oil in them and/or gross Vaseline-like stuff in them at night

Even after all that I hoped that they could do one last "enhancement" to bring my vision to 20/20 but--shocker--they said I wasn't a good candidate for another lasik procedure. I could have gone on to have PRK but that sounded too gross and painful for even me.

So here I am, back to contacts--but glad to have 20/20 non-glasses vision at long last.

Potty Inspiration

Check out the creative and musical talents of my sister, Cassie!



Of course I can't resist includingthis informative Japanese potty song.

As if we weren't all sick enough of the soccer saga, guess what the subject of my latest On Balance guest blog was? I swear I wrote it back in November and am not still obsessing on it! Who knew that me droning on about one soccer game would turn into this much hubbub?

As usual I was half horrified and half amused at the hostility of some of the commenters. Actually now it's more like 10% horrified and 90% amused because it's funny to me to see how irate some people get over the musings of a slacker--um, I mean soccer--mom. Every day these same people are on that On Balance comment forum, poised like piranha, ready to devour whatever morsel of thought happens to be featured in that day's post and spew back a tirade of how stupid the author or topic is.

I have to wonder what it would be like if everyone had their photo next to their "screen name," or even if they had to use their real names; would they still be as aggressive as they are in their safe anonymity? I picture some of those people like Oz, hiding behind their lawyer desks or whatever, and imagine how they'd look if they were suddenly visible.

Food Love

In case you need three more examples of how redonk all things Asian are:

What's the bad karma quotient on this?

I saw this headline: "Mom Lies for Hannah Tix" on MSN when I opened my browser just now. A few months ago I toyed with the idea of taking Mimi to the Miley Sirus (or is it Hannah Montana?) concert but was saved by the fact that it sold out in like 20 seconds. I personally breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to face many of my most dreaded things at once: huge pressing crowds, millions of screaming little girls, loud teenage girl music, standing for an entire concert, and hellish concert parking lot traffic.

Apparently this mom didn't share my same relief at not being able to get tickets because she was willing to do whatever it took to get them for her daughter--even when it took making up a story about how the girl's dad died in Iraq.

Words fail me. Except to say I think this woman is a disgusting pig.

Ok, I HATE Augusten's mother--it appears that she has disowned him, judging by the links page on her website. There's the link to her other son's book right a the top...but no mention of her other son. Nice.

I guess she couldn't take that he has become what she herself always thought she'd be: a famous writer.

Shocker that he had such a screwed up childhood.

Augusten's new book is coming soon!

In the meantime I guess I will have to relent and buy his brother's book because I never see it at the library.

Ok, hold up--I was just googling "Augusten Burroughs' brother" to put the link to his book in here and, via another site, found Augusten's MOTHER'S blog. Crazy. Now I have to go read everything on it.

By the way, who cares whether or not every word in Running With Scissors was totally fabricated by Augusten? A book is a book.

We saw Juno last night and I had mixed feelings about it. At first I was thinking I love this movie! Then the girl's personality started to annoy me--it seemed so forced and just too much. Yes, she was cute and unique and cool...but after a while it just felt like the whole movie was screaming "LOOK HOW EDGY THIS MOVIE AND THESE CHARACTERS ARE! LOOK HOW HIP AND QUIRKY AND WITTY AND SARCASTIC AND SMART AND SUBVERSIVE THIS GIRL IS! LISTEN TO HOW COOL THIS MUSIC IS! CHECK OUT THIS RAD CINEMATOGRAPHY AND THESE CARTOON-ISH EFFECTS!" It just got to be system overload for me after a while. Ok, ok already--I get it--the film is offbeat and artsy.

The feel of the whole thing became very Napolean Dynamite on speed after a point-- that point probably being when the Napolean Dynamite clone made his appearance in Science class.

Then there was the spooky aspect of the Mallory's brother/horse-faced Jennifer Garner couple. WTF was up with Jennifer Garner's character? Fist of all, she looked nothing like she used to--how did she go from kicking ass in Alias to looking like a Talbot's-clad spinster in a few years? Ok, yes, maybe it was just her character but it freaked me out and distracted me.

As much as I disliked her character, the husband creeped me out the most. How did that "young at heart" (said with a smirk) guy end up in a McMansion in the burbs with dry old Jennifer Garner in the first place? Had he started off as a yuppie but, upon meeting Juno, suddenly morphed back to his rock n' roll former self?

That big brother/pedophile dynamic was very disturbing to me. The first time Juno showed up at their house unannounced and started hanging around with him, swapping guitar stories and cd mixes, it made me uncomfortable. Then when she showed up the second time and they started slow dancing it became downright stomach-turning.

At any rate, I have to say that by the end of the movie I liked it a lot less than I did when it started.

It's a little late to be sharing this holiday drink recipe but you can always file it away for next Christmas:

Candy Cane Martini

Mix the vodka and Peppermint Schnapps with ice in a shaker, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Pour it back into the shaker and dip the rim into a plate of crushed candy canes to create a minty rim. Next, pour the mixture back into the glass for a classy Christmas cocktail. If you have those mini candy canes, you can hook one over the rim instead.

If you like chocolate you could use the recipe for chocolate martinis (readily available via Google) and dip the rim into the crushed candy canes.

Or, if you're feeling, um, sluggish, you could try the drink I invented; I like to call it the Loose Goose:

Diet Pepsi (or Coke, if that's how you roll)
Gray Goose Le Citron vodka (or another brand, but then you can't technically call it "Goose")
Miralax

Stir and enjoy. If you suffer from "chronic ideopathic constipation" like I apparently do, according to the colonoscopy I had last week, you can augment the drink with a few fiber pills. Of course, if you do suffer from it, this drink will do nothing, but maybe it will have a cumulative effect if you have one every evening. Or that's what I tell myself.