bart simpson

i’m hungry so i walk across the street to the Oriental Restaurant (i tell you, it’s pretty awesome having a chinese restaurant within walking distance). anyway, i’m in line to order some crispy chicken when i hear this woman (white, 40s, looks like a hick) start talking about how funny my t-shirt (the one above) is on her cell phone.


what’s with people and their cell phones that suddenly tells them to throw all rules of etiquette out of the window? it’s the weirdest feeling hearing someone talk about you right in front of you when they don’t really know you and you can’t really say anything. i wanted to say “uh, hello, i’m right fucking here. didn’t anyone ever tell you that it was rude to talk about someone near you, OUT LOUD, as if they didn’t exist?” however, i have to order so i keep quiet. and it’s a good shirt so i take it as a compliment. but then she says “oh, he’s a bart simpson kind of kid.”

wait a minute. am i yellow? sorta, maybe, i’ll let that one slide. do i have spiky hair? do i say “cowabunga” and “aye carumba”? have i been wearing the exact same clothing for the last 13 years? i’m pretty sure i’m past the 3rd grade and i sound nothing like a pre-pubescent child.

i wanted to say something but i couldn’t find any words.

she later mentioned about being a nurse. for some reason, that frightened me.


2 Responses to bart simpson

  1. doug says:

    you sure the woman wasn’t talking about Ralphie?

  2. patrick says:

    she was talking about the shirt. it’s weird having someone describe your clothing right in front of you.

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