Where are all the ninjas?

Now, you might be thinking, "Laura, it's impossible to know where ninjas are PERIOD. I mean, they're NINJAS."

Yes, yes, I know. Ninjas. Super sneaky and all that jazz. But why hasn't someone died from a mysterious neck wound? Why hasn't anyone found a dead body with shurikens stuck in it? Why hasn't anyone been poisoned lately?

Where are the ninjas?! I ask you.

I'll tell you where.

They're in your churches, your convents, your catholic high schools. They're praying for you and beating teaching your children.

That's right. I'm accusing NUNS of being NINJAS. They are-

NUNJAS!

A nunja in her natural habitat.

"Laura, are you on acid? That's just ridiculous!"

Yes, yes, ridiculous, I know. But I'm sure you thought my claim about the love of squirrels for catholics was ridiculous, didn't you? And then you read, and understood and thought, "BY GOD! SHE'S RIGHT!" So, my friends, read and understand.

As I have said before, I'm a bit of a Catholic school expert. I have had the opportunity to view nuns in their natural habitat (I worked as a secretary for the nuns on my high school's campus a few years ago), and I must say, they're... suspicious, to say the least.

For one, they are quiet. FAR too quiet. You never see or hear a nun coming until they make themselves known. This happened to me many a time when I worked for them. I would never see a nun approach the front doors of the Provincial Center (where they lived on my high school campus) until they rang the doorbell (which was LOUD and scared me shitless countless times). Futhermore, if a nun was walking behind you, you would never know. If they were approaching you from behind, you wouldn't be able to tell. Even if it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, you would not notice them until they said, "Hello, Laura (or whatever YOUR name may be), how are you today?"

Which usually results in a, "JESUS CHRIST! ... Thank you for this beautiful day. Please bless the sisters. Amen. Oh, hello, Sister. I'm wonderful - just doing a little praying to good ol' JC, y'know. How are you?"

But that is beside the point.

See? Nuns are so ninja-like that they have figured out how to get into the men's room!

"Laura, you're being silly. Some people are just really quiet!"

Uh huh. Sure. Then let me present to you, Exhibit B - Sr. Charleen.

Sr. Charleen was one of my Theology teachers in high school. She was this little, elderly nun who taught Prayer and Theology III, as well as other classes, I'm sure. Sr. Charleen, however, was in a motorized wheel chair.

"A motorized wheel chair? What does that have to do with anything?"

Well, I will tell you. Sr. Charleen told us that she has a condition (I can't remember what it's called, or exactly what it is [I know it has to do with her spine], but that's not important), so she can't walk very well, or very far, which is why she is in the wheel chair.

SPINE CONDITION MY FOOT.

She clearly injured her back in an epic ninja battle involving swords, poison, and shurikens. Doesn't that make more sense than a silly spine condition? After her injury, clearly, she had to retire as a ninja. BUT her enemies were still after her. Where could she retire to? Where would she be safe? With the NUNS of course! No one would suspect her to retire and live in hiding with the nuns, teaching religion to the most intelligent young women ever. No one would ever think of that!

"Laura, you're ridiculous. Maybe she just has an actual spine condition? You know, those DO exist."

Alright then. Let me tell you about Sr. O'Neil.

I met Sr. O'Neil when I was but a wee (the irish-ness of "O'Neil" gave me an irresistable urge to use "wee." STFU) freshman at UD. Back when I was still a Music Ed major and had to take pedagogy classes. Sr. O'Neil taught Low String Pedagogy as well as other string instrument-related classes. She is a cellist, and expained to us that her hands are so strong from turning the tuning pegs on her cello that she can open jars even full grown men have trouble opening.

Strong hands from tuning pegs?! I THINK NOT!

PROOF! I TOLD YOU!

Obviously, she got her strong hands from her NINJA TRAINING AND EXPERTISE. I bet she can crush someone's skull in a fraction of a second with her hands.

And, think back to the good old days when teachers were allowed to use physical abuse as punishment. How do you think nuns got so good at detecting when you were doing something bad? How do you think they got so good at making those ruler-smacks hurt so much? IT'S BECAUSE THEY ARE NINJAS. Only to keep up with their ninja skills while worshipping Jeebus, they've practiced using every day objects - rulers in place of nunchucks. Crucifixes in place of shurikens. CANES IN PLACE OF SWORDS! This way, no one is suspicious of them. No one can ask, "Sr. O'Neil! Why is there a sword in your cello case?" "Sr. Charleen! Why are there a pair of nunchucks on your desk?" Even look at the word "nunchucks." THEY WERE NAMED AFTER NUNS! It's so obvious!

And if all that evidence doesn't convince you, then maybe this will.

JUST LOOK AT THE SIMILARITIES! ARE YOU CONVINCED NOW?!

Squirrels love Catholics

Folks, I am about to make a claim that may be too ridiculous to believe. A claim so ridiculous, you may laugh. A claim so unbelievable, you won't believe it.

Squirrels love Catholics.

He found out you aren't Catholic. And he is NOT happy about it.

So, if you don't already know, I was born and raised Catholic. This fall will start my 16th year of Catholic school. You could call me a bit of a Catholic school expert, I suppose. I know quite a bit about their rules, uniforms, as well as their oddities.

I knew my high school was different for many reasons. 1 - I loved the place. That in itself meant that it had to be somewhat odd (I was a HUGE oddball when I was just entering high school. Now, still so, but less). And 2 - It was a Catholic school.

"Hey now," some of my more religious readers may be thinking, "Catholics aren't all that bad."

No, they aren't all that bad.

But they are weird.

If a teacher saw you with your hand in your pocket for longer than the amount of time it takes to grab a pen or pencil or whatever may be in there, she was allowed to give you a demerit - because having your hand in your pocket meant that you had a cell phone in there, and you were texting someone (What? Yeah. Cellphones. What did you think I was going to say they thought we were doing? You dirty, dirty people!) Cellphones and texting during school hours was a big no-no. Nevermind that some people have made a habit of sticking their hands in their pockets (i.e. ME, GODDAMMIT). But if a girl was sitting in glass with her purse in front of her, "rummaging" through it for the duration of the hour and twenty-five minute class? Yeah. That was totally fine. That didn't mean she was texting AT ALL.

Walking into class thirty seconds after the bell rang meant you were tardy and had to go get a tardy slip (Seriously, Sr. Irene?)

Jesus, don't even get me started on the nuns.

One of the more entertaining events of my Catholic high school occurred when I was but a mere sophomore. By then I had learned most of the oddities of Catholic high schools, but not all of them. One day, as I was sitting in class, waiting for the announcements to end so I could head over to my next class, the dean of students (Ms. Cousino or as we liked to call her - The Cous) came over the PA system.

"I understand that our students are very environment-friendly, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to refrain from feeding the squirrels."

What?

"A squirrel managed to get into the building yesterday..."

Seriously? Dont' feed the squirrels?

I died laughing. At least, I thought I did.

A couple days later, I was doing the same thing - waiting for the announcements to end so I could go to my next class, but The Cous came over the PA system again.

"I understand that some of the students here are concerned about the well-being of the squirrels on campus, which is why we have installed a brand new squirrel feeder."

... What? Seriously?

Yes. They installed one of these contraptions at my high school.

You all know the squirrels are like, "FUCK YEAH! CATHOLIC SCHOOL GIRLS ROCK! Party at the Catholic high school! FREE FOOD MOTHERFUCKERS!"

"Okay, well, that's only one instance," you may be thinking. "That's no reason to make a ridiculous statement about the love of squirrels for Catholics."

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you, exhibit B.

My parents are devout Catholics (granted, a little on the odd side, but devout Catholics none the less). Now, a number of different factors may have contributed to exhibit B - such as 3/4 my parents children going off to college (AKA nearly empty nest syndrome), their old age and boredom, blah blah blah

OR

It could have EVERYTHING to do with the fact that they are CATHOLIC (yeah. Let's go with that reason, 'cause it fits into my argument quite well).

Exhibit B:

My parents feed the animals in out backyard. Usually, my dad will throw some walnuts, almonds, pecans, whathaveyou on to the patio in our backyard. A variety of animals eat these nuts - birds, chipmunks, etc - but I guarantee you the animal that gets to the food first is the - you guessed it! - squirrels. The squirrels fucking LOVE us because of this. So much so that they've begun to come up to our back door and look all fat and adorable until we give them food.

Yes. They've learned how to beg!

Now, I don't consider myself Catholic, but Catholics must have a certain scent or something which has rubbed off on me. Whenever I'm mindlessly staring out the back door (it's one of those sliding glass door thingies. I don't know what they're called), a squirrel will come up to the door, and sit there. It smells the Catholic on me and knows that if it looks cute enough, I must eventually feed it.

NO SQUIRREL. I AM NOT CATHOLIC.

I WILL NOT GIVE YOU FOOD.

This is what's going on in my backyard. My parents are enabling the squirrels!

So what do I do?

I mess with those squirrels. I keep them on their toes. I'll open the door and chase them away. I'll fill up a glass of water and throw it at them (the water. Not the glass. And it's room temp, I promise - I'm no animal abuser. I just like screwing with their minds). I'll yell at them and scare them away. Eventually, they won't know what the expect when they come up to our back door. Food? Maybe (and with my parents in the house, quite likely). Terror? Perhaps. Water flying at them? Fuck yeah. I mean... Perhaps.

"Still, only two pieces of evidence?" You're thinking. "Not much of an argument."

I present to you - my university.

The University of Dayton is a Catholic University in Dayton, OH (Woooooo Ohio! ... not). Students on my campus play something called "squirrel tag" where you run up to a squirrel, touch it, and earn points.

The squirrels love Catholics enough to let them touch them.

SEE? Squirrels fucking LOVE Catholics!

I was not jesting when I made this claim!