Wake up your inner drill sergeant who will scream you out of a sound sleep at 05:00 every morning so you can train for your marathon, develop a new app that will make you millions, and then have tantric sex for three minutes with the man/woman/trans/all three of your dreams.
Here is my self-help book:
Day #1
You make me sick, you weak-willed pathetic loser. Put down the bucket of fried chicken, turn off the Stephen Seagal movie, get your fat ass up off the sofa, change out of that filthy t-shirt and stained pajama bottoms, put on your running clothes, and follow me outside for a brisk 10-mile sprint.
When we get back, you can write your novel and learn a Mozart sonata on the piano. After that, we’re going to build homes for the poor. Wait, fuck that. Why don’t they buy this book, pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and build their own damn houses?
Day #2
Jenkins won’t be with us anymore. Why? Because I beat him to death with his own alarm clock for hitting the snooze button…twice!
Day #3
Repeat.
Honestly, there is absolutely nothing new in this book which should have come in a handy 3X5 card version. This has exactly the same bullshit as every other self-help scam. Save your money and go buy yourself a hamburger. My advice: forget about the guilt and enjoy it.