Dr. Frank's What's-it

In my old job my awful new-age manager filled the office with positive affirmation cards, books, and this ominous huge rose quartz that was meant to be sending out love to me.

She was such a self-help dictator that we were obliged to read out a positive affirmation card each morning and discuss it as a team. My favourite card I drew said something like "My thought patterns are positive and joyful", which is pretty much the funniest thing ever, in that really tragic way.

These days I associate self help with homocidal urges.

Surprisingly, this is an interesting article. However, after reading title to the blog post, I assumed it was going to analyze the sickly feeling I get at Half Price Books walking down the "Self Help" aisle and looking at the empty eyes and cheesy smiles of fine folks like Joel Olsteen, Dr. Phil, and Suzie Orman.

I've gained a ton of weight since high-school, "helping myself" to McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell etc..... instead of taking the time to actually cook something or cut up some fruits and veggies. I've also "helped myself" to lots and lots of malty beverages. This only leads me to believe that our beloved Frank has the metabolism of a jackrabbit on crack or that he doesn't eat. I'm going with the doesn't eat theory because on the several occasions that I've met him, there has always been beer but I've never seen him eat.