A life coach is a psychiatrist/therapist with a best (possibly a mild) seller and without a degree. Instead of having a whistle and making you do push-ups and laps and drills like a sports coach, they give you list-making exercises and paraphrase Bing Crosby songs in elaborate metaphors, ending with some variation of the punchline in “Happy Talk.”
I’m morbidly watching Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. In order to be the best at what he does, he destroys himself while being an amiable monster. Picturing him in a confrontation with a life coach results in a few moments of good sitcom.
Today is my birthday. While I’ve done some stupid things, the only thing I ever punched really hard is my bed.