Pass The Beano

My boyfriend and I attempted a new way of eating (not a diet) several months ago. It’s Tim Ferriss’s, The 4-Hour Body. It was a lifestyle experiment. In an almond nut shell, you are not allowed to eat whites or sugars; rice, potatoes, bread, pasta, sugar, fruit, honey, agave, and fruit juices.

What does that leave you? Not much. However, for someone like me, who is not a foodie, and who doesn’t like to make eating an event, this is the perfect ‘way of eating’. It’s repetitive, takes all the guesswork out of what to eat and it includes all of my favorite foods.

You’re allowed eggs and on occasion, cottage cheese. Perfect! We could have any and all vegetables (in any amount) especially spinach. But the main food item is beans. Beans, beans and then more beans. Beans are recommended with at least two of your four daily meals. I’ve since bought stock in Beano and Gas-X.

Allow me now to digress. The following was previously published several years ago and I include it here, not only to go along with the Beano theme, but as a wonderful illustration of my ability to turn most things into a performance. Enjoy.
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The owner of the Pilates studio, Janice, asked me to train a friend of hers. I was flattered that she thought of me. When I saw her in the studio, I said, “Hey, thanks for the referral. I’m training Scott tomorrow. He had to change his original session time because of an audition.”

Yes, I emphasized the word audition, and added some sarcasm for good measure because he had said it in such a way that I was supposed to be impressed. Please. I felt like stepping out of my Pilates instructor mode and put some of my well stretched toes onto the ‘stage’.

Janice smiled, “Well, he’s a very successful commercial actor.” Uh, oh. It’s on.
ME: "I did commercials.” Janice took the bait.
JANICE: “You did? You would be great in commercials.”
ME: “If I had a dollar every time someone told me that." Of course it was actually only one real commercial that I did, but why bother her with the details. I continued. "I did the commercial thing for a while. And then the auditions got more and more inane. I’d go in and have to frown in front of the camera, or sneeze or crawl on the floor like a mouse looking for cheese. Then my dignity kicked in and I stopped.”

Janice was laughing and hanging on my every animated word, which was like shoving a coke whore’s face into a mound of white powder. It made me want to work harder and longer to sustain the high. “One of my last auditions was for Beano. I was so over it by then and I didn’t care anymore so I had some fun.”

The Pilates studio was instantly transformed into a comedy club and I grabbed the microphone out of its cradle.

“I stood with another woman, pretending to be in line at a cafeteria, walking past the imaginary food, deciding what we were going to have for our pretend lunch. The director yelled action. I took two steps and then I made a fake fart sound.” I demonstrated the fart sound for my audience. "It wasn’t the cliched, and childish, raspberry or cheek fart sound. My fake flatulence was more sophisticated and deeper, almost baritone sounding, and much more realistic. My audition partner didn’t know what hit her. I completely stole focus and chewed up the scenery. If memory serves me, the director did laugh. I don’t know how it was possible but I didn’t get the job.”

I thought Janice was going to fall off of the Cadillac (Pilates equipment) that she was sitting on. I brought the story home. “What? It was for Beano. It was totally appropriate.”

I’m not proud, but my adorable tale promptly started a five minute conversation, with the other trainers, about why people think farting sounds are funny and the farting games that are available online. I put my microphone back in it’s pretend cradle (I just wanted to do a quick 5 minute set) extricated myself from the high brow confab that I had spawned and slithered away. My job here is done.

Pass the Beano

The owner of the Pilates studio, Janice, asked me to train a friend of hers last week and I was flattered that she thought of me. When I saw her, I said, “Hey, thanks for the referral. I’m training Scott tomorrow. He had to change his original time because of an audition.” Yes, I said this with sarcasm, a bit of disdain, and some minor eye rolling. I don’t know what my motive was, other than I felt like doing a bit of performing and to have some fun. I'm beginning to think that it is that difficult to simply answer a fucking question or have a conversation with someone, sans the dramatics?

Janice smiled, “Well, he’s a very successful commercial actor.” Uh, oh, here we go.
“Oh, who isn’t? I did commercials.” Janice seemed interested and engaged.
“You would be great in commercials.”
“If I had a dollar every time someone told me that. I did the commercial thing. I used to audition all the time for a couple of years and then, well, it started getting stupid. The auditions got more inane. I’d go in and have to frown in front of the camera, or crawl on the floor like a mouse looking for cheese. And then my dignity kicked in and I stopped.”

Janice was laughing and hanging on my every animated word, which for me, as a comedienne, was like shoving a coke whore’s face into a pile of white dust. It made me want to work harder and longer to sustain the high. “One of my last auditions was for Beano. I was so over it by then and didn’t care anymore so I had some fun.

I had to stand with my pretend friend, holding a cafeteria tray, commenting on the food that we passed while in line. The director yelled, “action”, and I made a fake fart sound.” (insert actual fart sound) It wasn’t the cliched, and childish lip and cheek fart sound. Mine was more sophisticated and deeper, almost baritone sounding, and more convincing. I thought Janice was going to fall of the Trapeze Table she was sitting on. “What? It was for Beano. I thought it was totally appropriate.”

I’m not proud of it but my story promptly started a five minute conversation, with other trainers weighing in, about why people think farting sounds are funny and the farting games available online. I extricated myself from the high brow confab that I’d started and slithered away. My job here is done.