Asking for a whoopin?

I think I was on a high from my bus coup the other day because I found myself debating with a really lame tagger, well I am not sure he was even a tagger so much as a vandal.

He was walking down NW 5th and Couch drawing lines as he went along on the side of a building. I stopped and gave him my meanest Stink Eye to get his attention and sure enough I got it. After he said something like, "what?" I shot back something brilliantly after-school special like, "looks pretty destructive to me". To which he responded, "so what?"

Okay, I have no response to that. He then said, "you clearly can't read Chinese." Thinking, ah I've got you now "Clearly." was my response as I walked away.

I'm not sure what compels me to make comments to others in public but I have been doing it for years and so far haven't had my ass kicked. Maybe I should be more careful, maybe I should just live and let live, perhaps tolerance is the answer for me.....naaaaa, I mean look at that "tag"...Chinese my ass.

Stupid people bug me...

...and sometimes I can't stop myself from commenting on public displays of stupidity. For example when I riding a packed full #8 bus home the other night. A woman 2 rows in front of me got a cell phone call and answered it...not in itself stupid but the fact that the call was on speaker-phone was. So the rest of the passengers and myself were subjected to listening to her very boring phone call for 10-15 minutes. Finally I said aloud, "We can all hear your call, its on speaker phone" although it did not dissuade her from continuing her lame conversation.

Usually what happens after I have a little public outburst like this is that I feel like an asshole for saying anything in the first place. Not this time though thanks to the older gentleman that said, "Thank you young lady for saying something about that phone call, I appreciate it" as he shook my hand when he got off the bus.

Neat.

Enough About Capes...

...as per my prediction I have run out of material. Perhaps my collaborator and pal, Martin, will continue to update us on the cape scene, but I think I am moving on...

further evidence...

Exhibit 1, a boy and his cape

Legend of the Beautiful Austrian Cape

Pictured here are the only living souls privy to the legend of young master Ficht's predilection for cape-wear as a youth. Only his mother and Pete know the true depths of this obsession.

This blog will chronicle my life and love of Pete Ficht - mystery man, enigma.

Until I run out of material and then there's no telling where this thing could go....

too chubby for leiderhosen?

As you can see i was quite a squishy little fella. The only thing bigger than those chunky little legs was the chunky chunk of poop in my diaper!

my little weinerschnitzel

My name is Peter Ficht and this blog is all about my life. So i guess we should start at the beginning. I was born on September 28, 1964 in Ohio.