24 Hour Farty People
March 14th - I asked Patti if we had dinner plans for the weekend. She said that we didn't and I smiled. "Good. Because I'm going to eat baked beans for twenty-four hours." Like all of my best ideas, Patti considered it one of the worst ideas I've ever had. "But it doesn't even involve you," I said.
"Uh, it involves me smelling your stink."
"Maybe I won't fart at all. I won't know until I try."
"I can't even imagine eating baked beans as one meal, let alone twenty-four hours. You're going to get so tired of eating it." Hours later I bought four 28 oz. cans of baked beans at the grocery store to which Patti asked, "Oh my God, you were serious?"
March 18th, 9:33 a.m. - Well here we go. I have a busy day of yardwork and passing gas ahead of me. I'm going to work up quite the appetite for smushy beans in a savory brown sugar sauce.
I cracked open a can and, wow, 28 oz. of beans is a lot of beans. My strategy is to chew these beans completely. If I let even one bean go half-chewed, I'll be paying the price for weeks. I mean, others will be paying the price for weeks.
March 18th, 10:15 a.m. - I've gone to the bathroom four times in the past half hour. I'm beginning to think that eating only baked beans for breakfast wasn't such a good idea. Also, my hands are sticky from the tangy sauce and now it's all over my keyboard. I can think of worse things to eat continuously. Beets, for instance. Uh, cotton balls. And bleach; that would not be good to eat excessively.
March 18th, 12:42 p.m. - Let's see what I've got in my ol' lunchbox here. Huh. Beans and beans with a side of beans. The ultra-fine chewing technique went out the window. Looks like it's the sofa for me tonight.
March 18th, 4:04 p.m. - The second 28 oz. can of baked beans is open and this has officially turned difficult. Problematic even. When I'm hungry, my stomach hurts. And after I've eaten, my stomach hurts. My new strategy is to eat only a few spoonfuls of baked beans in order to trick the gurglies. Is that a word, gurglies?
March 18th, 9:12 p.m. - The gaseous byproduct of eating non-stop baked beans has been better than expected, mostly because I've been outdoors. But now that I'm stuck indoors, this isn't going to be pretty. I almost postponed this dietary life achievement because a friend said that she would be stopping by for a visit tonight. At first I feared that my house would smell like pungent intestines, but then I remembered that alcohol makes me not care, so Whee! Farts away!
March 18th, 11:18 p.m. - I have to admit that I was so hungry for a nice sandwich that I almost threw in the towel. Fourteen hours of baked beans seemed substantial enough, but Patti helped me see the light.
"You only have a little bit to go," she said. "You eat it for a couple of more hours, then you fall asleep, and you wake up and eat it for a couple of hours more."
She was right. And I'm not just talking about how my "farts don't stink" (her words). Although I do think it's odd that the person who was initially against this experiment was the one who saved it.
March 18th, 1:42 a.m. - This just in: I'm eating beans. I'm just a few bites shy of consuming 56 oz. Luckily I'm under the influence, so I'll get there. In the words of Benjamin Franklin, "It's tough to chew something that you don't want in your mouth, fool."
Why am I still up? Wait, I shouldn't complain because by the time I wake up I can eat eggs over easy. And extra sharp cheddar. French fries. Salmon. Biscuits with butter. The world is full of possiblities. -- Then joke.
March 19th, 10:15 a.m. - The experiment is officially over. In 24 hours, I consumed 68 oz. of baked beans, which equivalent to the size of a two-liter soda bottle. That is a lot of baked beans. I didn't go out with friends for brunch because I had some errands to run. Or as Patti told them, "I have the runs." She can tell them whatever she wants as long as I don't have to consume baked beans again until I'm dead in the cold, cold ground.
