Aside from whoring myself out as a writer here in L.A., I still make the odd buck as an actor. I love doing it — always have — but anybody with a headshot can tell you that it's tough to get a job, much less be considered "successful." In the last year or so, my paid work has boiled down to driving my car around the block on Crossing Jordan, portraying a British boxing fan in Clint Eastwood's new movie, and appearing in a pet care video to be shown in veterinary offices. I didn't get these jobs based on my acting skills, either; I got them because I have a crappy car, bad teeth, and a cat, respectively.

So how does one get noticed in the midst of such talented possessions? Certainly not through performing in sketch comedy revues, mailing out promotional photos or getting drunk in the morning, all of which I've tried numerous times. I'm not related to anybody in the film industry, I didn't do soaps as a child, and I'm really bad at kissing ass. Three strikes, I'm out of work.

But wait a minute — what's all this in the tabloids? Christian Bale drops 65 pounds for The Machinist? Zellweger bulks up for Bridget Jones? Anna Nicole Smith now only mentally repulsive?

Ah ha! That's the ticket to getting noticed — weight fluctuation!

No wonder I can't book any good jobs. While I have been gaining a small amount of weight over the last few years, a true actor's body would be snapping back and forth rapidly, like DeNiro in Raging Bull or Delta Burke on Designing Women. Risky dieting — that's the true "method."

This realization couldn't have come at a better time. Just last week I auditioned for a beer commercial, and I expect to be scheduled for a callback today. When they saw me on Thursday, I was a slightly stocky 185 pounds. When they bring me in this week, I'll walk into the room at... 95 pounds! How's that for talent?!

And here's the commercial I'll pitch: Our hero (me) strolls into the bar a hideous skeletal shape and weakly orders a brew. With a great deal of struggle, he raises the bottle to his cracked, bloodied lips and we cut away to an astonished group of sluts in bikinis. When we cut back, he's suddenly healthy, handsome and 100 pounds heavier! Wanna sell some beer? That'll sell the hell out of your beer!

I'm awesome for having this idea.

However, no idea can be successfully executed without a carefully crafted plan. Since my callback could be as soon as tomorrow, I must start dieting immediately. That means cutting out all carbs, fats, proteins, fluids and foods. It will probably also help if I throw up, jog and move my bowels nonstop. I will call this phase of my diet "induction." It will be the only phase.

The Method Diet — Hour One

It's only been a few minutes and I've already hit my first speed bump — I'm at work. That makes it extremely difficult to throw up, jog or move my bowels for more than a few minutes an hour without seriously dampening productivity. But every little bit helps! I won't be discouraged! I've printed out a photo of Gandhi and stuck it to my bulletin board. Now he knew how to starve!

Other than a little bit of thirst and maybe a couple of "tummy grumbles," I'm feeling quite good and can already sense some increase in my acting talent. If this trend keeps up, you could be seeing me on TV screens across the country (if you're not peeing or getting a snack).

The Method Diet — Hour Two

I'm ashamed of myself but it couldn't be helped. She was practically asking for it — like one of those old cartoons where the person suddenly becomes a walking steak. Except this wasn't a cartoon, and the receptionist was a dish far rarer than any steak.

Okay, so I slipped up. But it was like Liz wanted to be eaten, strolling into my office when I'm starving like that. She should have known better than to lean over my desk, her flabby upper arm flexing up into a plump little drumstick...

Oh, shit. That's Roger knocking on my door. What should I tell him?

She fell down — that's it. She fell down and a chunk of her thigh came off and flew out the window. And both of her arms, too. I have to hide these bones! Quickly!

The Method Diet — Hour Three

Roger is both far less stupid and infinitely more delicious than I expected. Must be all that healthy eating he does — it really makes a difference. After devouring Liz, I felt... I don't know — all groggy and heavy. With Roger I feel just sort of satisfied — not too full, not too hungry, just very mellow. I wonder what that Asian girl in the lab would taste like...

The Method Diet — Hours Four, Five, and Six

Locking up the office, dragging the skeletons of my coworkers to the car and dumping them at Griffith Park was quite a workout, but when I got home and weighed myself, I found I had actually gained four pounds! This is the exact opposite of my goals!

Fortunately, I've discovered that I'm also gaining the most powerful attributes of my victims. Roger's intelligence, Liz's ability to forward emails, Li Hu's analytical skills — all are now mine!

What does that mean for my beer commercial? Well, I still haven't given up on reaching my target weight. I'm no quitter! But I am making a major change to my plan. Rather than dropping the weight by eating right and exercising, I now plan to capture Christian Bale, devour him, and thereby gain his secrets to quick, dramatic weight loss. Surely, he's got some secrets up his sleeves that I simply don't have access to as a non-celebrity. Secrets that will have me rolling into the casting office looking emaciated, sickly and disgustingly talented.

Your flesh is mine, Bale. Running only makes you tastier.