Now, you didn’t really think I had cured cancer, did you? If I had, my face would be plastered on pretty much every magazine cover, I’d have multiple bookings on Good Morning America and Larry King Live, and the world might award me a Nobel Prize. No, I haven’t quite cured cancer yet, but I’m pretty sure I will. In the words of my high school Guidance Counselor, Mr. Duffy, I just need to apply myself more.

Sure, I’ve applied myself to certain worthwhile pursuits, convinced of my own inherent genius without so much as a glance at the facts. Why, this one time I almost became an artist! A veritable child prodigy! Another time I nearly became a culinary genius, which, despite how they make it look on television is no easy pursuit. Sure, I’ve failed more times along the way than I can count; becoming a nurse instead of a doctor, having a child rather than a trained monkey butler, getting pregnant against all odds, facing the hurdles of autism and death, marrying a man in lieu of traveling the world while simultaneously curing both AIDS and poverty. And fatness. Don’t forget fatness.

But one of these days, I tell you, I’m going to finish curing cancer.

I just know it.



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