The Wisconsin Ninja Trumps My Little Problems

5 05 2010

I’m in the middle of some serious life crises.

For one, I’ve been attempting to finish War and Peace. That sucker is well over a thousand pages long, with tiny font and extended margins that clearly demonstrate a cheap publishing company, desperately trying to use the least amount of paper possible in the printing of this book.

War and Peace might be very well be the “greatest novel of all time” (as my dust jacket proudly proclaims), but I’ve come to suspect that no one has actually read the book, and they slapped that grandiose label on just to sound smart. Sure, it sounds interesting–the epic story of five families struggling through Napoleon’s invasion of Russia–but the reality of trying to slog through several hundred pages of archaic military tactics and sluggish battle scene descriptions just has no appeal for me.

Then you factor in all of those unpronounceable Russian names…eek.

My husband has now labeled me I’m the most stubborn person he’s ever met, simply because I refuse to let this book conquer me and continue to press on–even though I haven’t really enjoyed any of it.

This problem, however, pales in comparison with the issue we’re having with our two dogs, Bonzer and Tucker.

Somehow, in the course of the last two months, they decided that it’s acceptable to bound up into our beds as soon as the sun peeks up in the wee hours of the morning. They jump on us energetically, licking us and crawling under the covers with us if we attempt to hide from their vicious onslaught. They’ll paw at us, sit on our heads, and playfully gnaw on our fingers until we show some sign of life.

A few days ago, I finally snapped.

As soon as Tucker jumped on me, I grabbed him a little too vigorously and literally catapulted him off the bed. He soared over the entire length of the bed, and crashed onto the floor. Undeterred, he jumped up and redoubled his attack on my head.

You can probably guess where this is headed, right?

It’s now become a routine: Tucker attacks me, I throw him off the bed, and he comes back at me for more.

So, now after I fall asleep after a miserable few chapters of War and Peace, I have this chaos to wake up to.

Well….it could be worse.

I could have a machete-wielding ninja roaming just around the corner, as was the case in River Hill, Wisconsin.

Really.

I can’t make this stuff up. Check out the story here.

According to the article I read, a 16-year-old home school boy attacked a  student from nearby Nicolet High School last Friday. Two girls initially found the teen dressed in black ninja clothing with a black mask over his face, armed with a bow and a sword and wandering around in the wooded property behind their high school. The girls thought it was humorous, until he told them they were on “private property” and aimed an arrow at them. A few of their male friends went back later that week to check this character out, and one teen ended up getting whacked in the face with a machete.

Seriously–someone has to ask how this kid ended up thinking he’s a ninja.

How does someone from the Midwest–dairy country, to boot–start fantasizing that he’s living in sixteenth-century Japan?

And why exactly was he using a machete, instead of those killer little star-shaped discs?

I can’t help but think of the reverse–if a Japanese teen started believing he was a Wisconsin farmer, and started attempting to milk cranes. His parents would likely tie him down and force him to lick wasabi-covered peas to shock him back to his senses.

And I thought all the really weird stories took place in Florida…

Regardless, I must thank the Wisconsin Ninja. His insanity trumps my little problems.

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