"I don't think there's anything in that black bag for me."
That's a line from "The Wizard of Oz," the line Dorothy says to the Wizard after he's handed out a diploma to the Scarecrow, a ticking valentine clock to the Tin Woodsman, and a medal to the Lion--all tangible representations of the qualities they wanted that they never realized they already possessed (yeah, there's a metaphor in there--the whole book's a bleedin' metaphor!--but I digress). But I really don't think there's anything in that black bag for me. Home wasn't in the bag for Dorothy--although, yeah, it turns out the shoes had the power to carry her home. I certainly don't have any kind of secret weapon like that--and if I do, I'm sure it lost any power it had long ago.
My friends seem to think that someday they'll be dancing at my wedding. I don't see that coming. At all. Not in a year. Not in a lifetime. I think that's why I've been winning these various little contests lately--to help soften the blow.