The IBS Diaries Vol. 20: Cheesie's Challenge


Last week White Sox Dave and I participated in the Cheesie’s Challenge and both embarrassed our last names in the process. For the record, I knew I wasn’t coming near the finish line. I’m 5’10” 162 lbs (subject to change on dating apps) so I was just happy to have made it out with no serious injuries. Here’s the video ICYMI:

Every week we focus on the severity of each bowel movement with IBS, but rarely do we discuss the frequency feature that can occur in some cases of IBS. I’ve said before that having the syndrome doesn’t necessarily mean you have to shit all the time, it’s just that every time you do it’s an emergency evacuation. But when you start eating like an asshole is when the consistency starts kicking in. An example of this would be trying to eat a 10 lb grilled cheese. So for the first time in IBS Diaries history, we are going to focus on the persistent penetration of the syndrome rather than the urgency of it. As always DMs are open girls.


Post-food challenge IBS is a whole different dragon. 3 minute grace periods all day and there’s no guessing when the next wave will hit. Best to remain in arm’s reach of a restroom at all times in the event of a sneak attack.

Flashback to the Cheesie’s Challenge after party:

Nov.12, 1:12 PM

Potential witnesses: WSD, Chief, Carl, Eddie, Camera Guy Matt, Cheesie’s social media woman, Cheesie’s management

Pants situation: $20 sweatpants. Easy sacrifice but poor improv diaper (no elastic/netting at the ankles)

Current form of transit: Boots

Nearest restroom: Cheesie’s—single person, 2 ply

Not all of these are gonna be thrillers because I was in close quarters to a bathroom (when I could be) throughout these next 48 hours. This was not a close call by any means, but still would have rather not christened the Cheesie’s toilet immediately after Dave basically made a record-scratching announcement to everyone that I was about to. But when you write to a nation about your irritable bowels every week that’s as to be expected. Either way, I wasn’t getting in the car until I did. Road trip protocol. Easy in and out transaction with grace minutes to spare.

2:02 PM

Current from of transit: I have to Uber back to my apartment because Carl was my ride to Cheesie’s and he and the rest of the branch are getting in his car to go the office. Risky business, but under those clown car conditions it’s better I Uber anyway.

Potential witnesses: Uber Driver Will (4.6 stars)

Pants situation: Same sweats from 40 minutes ago. There’s also a reserve pair of jeans in my backpack from the Eastern trip the night before, but I’d still rather not be paying any additional fines to Will today.

Nearest restroom: My home throne, 9 minute ride away.

So I feel a gas leak coming in the Uber and it should be noted that every fart, mid-grace period or not, is not only untrustworthy but a backstabber during Food Challenge IBS. No matter how harmless it feels, there’s always potential for a plot twist. You fart sitting on a toilet every time under these circumstances. Precautionary measures are necessary in cautionary moments. Responsible ball.

I make it to home base just fine. I sat on the throne and sure enough it was a bottle rocket of a fart, but nothing more than. I’ll take a fart & flush every time. Short and sweet, easy victory.

2:55 PM

The warning gurgle has just woken me up from a nap.

Screen Shot 2019-11-18 at 11.30.31 PM

Those of us who have IBS so bad that it interrupts our sleep like to refer to this as the graveyard shift. Just a joke we make to keep from crying. I’m in my apartment obviously so no theatrics are involved after the 2 minute warning whistle here. Quick roll call then I re-entered the hungover coma. For those keeping track at home, that’s 2.5 poos in 2.5 hours. Not to brag but we’re on pace to be DMing Guinness later.

3:58 PM

I’m walking my roommate’s dog when I receive my notice. Wrong place wrong time, every time.

Potential witnesses: Everyone driving west on Irving, crossing guard, my roommate’s dog

Current form of transit: foot, some MUSH! action possibly in store

Pants situation: My sweats are 3 for 3 today and the boxers deserve an honorable mention too. About due for an L some could say.

Nearest restroom: 4 minutes to the den with 3 minutes left in the 4th, 2 bars along the way – neither of them dog friendly.

Keeping a steady stride while walking a dog never gets easier. They’re either going too fast or too slow all the time. There’s no stopping to sniff the grass, and there’s also no letting the dog get too far ahead. One sudden yank and it could all be over. You need to establish a steady enough pace to where you’re being both time sensitive and not poking the shark. If you see a squirrel in the distance you might as well just shit yourself. Team work between you and the dog is vital here.


We’re in the homestretch when Leddy suddenly squats. Mayday. I’ve said this in an old diary—watching your dog poo while you have to is comparable to having to pee while staring at waterfalls. If I look for too long I’m gonna be asking her to scoot over. I bag up her mess and start to power-walk home after. I unbuckle on the way up the stairs and drain the 3 right before the buzzer. Game winner.


I’ve just finished a 7 Eleven Drink Tournament game with Yosif on register and am sitting in my car in the parking lot editing the video. Cue the Amber Alert.

Potential witnesses: Yosif staring through the glass. He doesn’t know about this part of my life and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Current form of transit: Car but should not be operating an automobile right now

Pants situation: Still the same sweats. Might have to frame them at this point

Nearest restroom: Pete’s Pizza. My apartment is pretty close, but 90% of accidents happen while looking for parking

I walk into Pete’s and they say “sit anywhere.” As you wish. I spot the male emoji sign and hear angels singing upon seeing an open stall. Another simple transaction with no drama. Must be doing something right. I get some za out of respect to Pete’s then resume home.

Nbd but my 27 year-old self managed to not have an accident all day after a college trip/food challenge combo. Undefeated chants coming in hot. The day after was no honey moon either, but I rode it out on my couch until my post food challenge IBS turned back into normal IBS. Felt good to be back.

If any member of IBS Nation has a tournament style story like this, feel free to email them in as well to Thanks for coming out today, see you all next week. Keep fighting.

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