There's only so much you can learn from watching tape and listening to post-game interviews. To really find out the root causes of what happens on the field, you have to go deeper. Andrew Luck, we're going to find out what went wrong with you this week in...BEHIND THE SYNAPSES.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh God. I knew I shouldn't have partied so hard last night. Coach kept telling us all week to stay loose, to not let this game get in our heads, and then those girls in my Advanced Architecture Studio class were all "oh my god you should toooootally come to our wine and cheese party!" And I told myself I'd just go for a little while and keep everything in moderation.
Half a block of white cheddar and a fistful of bocconcini later, my throat feels like a fucking caulk tube exploded inside of it.
What even happened after that? There...I remember there was a trip to the grocery store...and then we...did we have a heavy cream chugging contest? That would explain all the hives at least. Ugh, Andrew, why do you DO this to yourself?? Five months of just the occasional glass of Silk, just in social situations, and you totally blow it all up on one moronic dairy bender.
Dammit, I can't even see the left half of the field thanks to this freaking yogurt-eye. It's just embarrassing - this team expects me to be a leader and I'm out til sunrise snorting fermented bacteria milk with a bunch of freshmen. And we're not even talking some fruit-on-the-bottom shit. No, we were throwing back GREEK yogurt.
I think my eyes are leaking mucus.
Greeks, man. My GI feels like fucking Thermopylae. My dad always told me "yogurt after cheese leaves a man on his knees." There was one he had about Neufchâtel, too...something about...your ankles will swell? Or was it that they'd feel swell? Shit, maybe I should have tried some Reddi-Whip this morning. But that hair of the milk-dog thing never seems to work for me.
The worst was waking up in that bathtub full of butter stick wrappers. There's no way I could have eaten 18 sticks of butter, right? Maybe I made a ton of cookies. And gave them to the homeless. Yeah, that must be it. Homeless dudes love shortbread.
God, I can't even hear my own snap count. This must be what that river of slime in Ghostbusters II felt like. Except it's phlegm. And instead of old subway tunnels, it's flooding my nasal passages. Don't snot-rocket anything, Andrew - you might take your brain stem along for the ride.
I knew I shouldn't have come back. You know how much Lactaid you can buy with number one pick signing bonus money? A FACTORY'S WORTH. I've looked into it.
Can't even imagine what I smell like. My stomach can't take much more of th-OH GOD. Yeah, I'ma throw a pick here so I can go shit out this tres leches cake brewing inside me. Fuck.