So I thought the Indian food was eaten without incident. But, I was clearly wrong. Last night as I went to bed I felt the red hot curry lava scorching the intestine as it flowed through my bowels, destroying everything in its path. An occasional gas explosion was followed by a burning movement of the curry chicken. I was awakened several times with screams for help from my innards. But there was nothing I could do. The curry wasn't ready to come out, it just wanted to torture me. Read on to see the shocking conclusion of the Indian food event.
Brunch: Homemade egg muffin. Cheese, fat-free cream cheese, turkey bacon and scrambled egg on wheat english muffin.
Dinner: An awesome dinner! Ribs, mac& cheese, 7-layer salad and oreo ice-cream cake for dessert. Let's see if I pay for that cake tomorrow.
Beer: 3 or 4 coronas with lime
midnight snack: Dannon Activia yogurt
Exercise: none
Dietary supplements: none
stress: the car issues that I'll discuss in a moment
The deuce stories: When I woke up this late morning (around 11), the pain of the curry had subsided. I felt a bit of a load ready to come out and I obliged at my earliest convenience. Surprisingly, there was no burning sensation or anything. Just a normal, good consistency deuce. I thought the day would go just find and I would survive the Indian food. But then I made a mistake. I drove. I guess the theory that driving makes me subconsciously nervous and consciously deucy has some merit. I had just an 8 minute car ride to the grocery store. Within the second minute, I felt the stomach problems. I played relaxing classical music. I counted backwards from 100, but there was nothing I could do to keep my mind off of it. I got to the grocery store and purchased what I needed. There was another stop I was going to make on my way home, but the feeling of the deuce made me rethink the plan. Instead I headed home, dropped off the groceries and dropped off a load. Now I would think that if it were entirely mental, my deuce may have been 'rrheal or small. But this was a legitimate dump. It was a semi-bowl filler. And it all came out in one fell swoop. So I don't know if it was the indian food, the car ride, or just a deuce that needed to come out. But again, I found myself changing my life because of the dump. Not cool. The good news is, the deuce was an accomplishment and I am probably a few pounds lighter.
How to Enjoy the Deuce Diaries
Like a bad CSI episode, this blog will keep you guessing until the last minute. I will bring to you the past, present, and future of my bathroom emergencies. I encourage you to post your own stories, express your sympathies, or make suggestions to make my life better under the comments after any blog that moves you. If you are looking for the sheer entertainment of the truthful near-deuce (in pants) encounters, then read the "Deuce-aster stories." If you are looking to play the guess what's triggering the irritable bowel syndrome home game, read the "Daily Diet and Deuce Effects" posts which are labeled by date. In these posts, I will describe what I ate and what level of stress or nervousness I was dealing with. But like searching through a big dump after eating a few Chipotle burritos, you will find some kernels of goodness in these posts. This is because my life is a constant adventure. My stomach is like Mount Vesuvius, ready to explode at any moment and bring hell upon any day. Therefore, you just might find another entertaining story about the runs. And you may be Sherlock Holmes and find the way to stop this menace!
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