I lied

I don't actually want to be a surgeon. You know I can't stand blood, guts, needles, scalpels or really anything in the medical realm.

But maybe in my next life I can marry Bob Cesca. Or, you know, just clean his house, tune up his bike or wash his dog or something.

And no, you pervs, "wash his dog" is not a euphemism. Either is "tune up his bike."