Maccawank

Bro, your story about the toaster is worse than my ex's crying face.

Why are you still talking? Your words are like a broken f***ing blender.

This conversation is so trash, I want to throw it in the bin and set it on fire.

You just described your day like it was a horror movie and you were the main f***ing villain.

I can’t even hear my own thoughts anymore, your rambling is that loud.

You're not telling a story, you're just f***ing yelling at me.

You talk so fast, I think you're trying to f***ing run away from your own words.

You're not making sense, you're just f***ing flailing at the air.

Your brain is like a f***ing broken fan, spinning but not doing sh*t.