I’ve just returned from the first meeting of the “ass-lickers” club. My friend Pen came up with the idea after reading the blog I posted a while ago. Her theory was that as we had all clearly taken the wrong turn at some point, we should meet and try to come up with concrete ways to get headed in the right direction.

This sounds entirely logical, right?

Mostly, we got sidetracked on a discussion of the advantages of running a cult—financially, socially, sexually… you know, the usual banter. Then we had margaritas.

Shockingly, we haven’t come up with a plan that won’t someday involve an FBI investigation. But you should definitely stay tuned.

I’m not discouraged. I’m really good when I have an actual goal in front of me. I’m terrible when dealing with abstract things like, “I want things to be better.” “Better” is a far too nebulous concept. I like lists. I liked spreadsheets. I like to be able to check things off when I get something finished. Seriously, checking things off a list makes me absurdly happy. Not going-out-for-a-delightful-conversation-with-George-Clooney happy, but absurdly happy none-the-less.

So, I have the club, paper, pencils and a general desire. Now, all I need is a plan. Any minute now it will come to me. Any minute. Any…

Ooooh shiny.