Here we go again. There you are so called talking to yourself, talking out loud. Anyone that says they talk to themselves doesn't really. Making a mess everywhere you go, everything you do.
Bull in a china shop. Complete disaster.
All because you're "multi tasking," thinking about other shit rather than being in the moment, rushing, better yet, not thinking at all about the mess you create and leave for anyone but you to clean.
Oh oh, you gotta clean out the fridge, now! Now!. Oh oh, you don't know where you left your keys. Oh oh, you gotta go pay your parking meter. Oh oh, you forgot all about it. Oh oh, you so funny. So cute. So ditzy.
Every time I try to get away, nope you say something else.
Oh oh, what happened to that extra shelf for the fridge. Yeah yeah, maybe I'll put 2 bowls under it to help hold it.
Then every time I walk by, you blabber something. But when I hide behind the corner, I don't hear that talking to myself. What a fraud! Anyone who says they talk to themselves. No you don't! You just can't stand being alone. Then when you leave, you rush out, dripping your fucking fruit juices out your box, leaving a trail to the door, that you're so clueless to even know you did something like that. I'm never offering my help again. Carry your own shit in. Don't rope me in to your teenybopper drama, although you're like 50.