Ah ha. Internet, trying to trip me up from telling my offensive jokes. Yeah, right.

Q. How do you tell if a native woman is menstruating?

A. She's only wearing one sock.

Q: What do you get if you put 50 lesbians and 50 natives in one room?

A: 100 people who don't do dick.

Q: How do you tell if an East Indian woman is pregnant?

A: The red dot on her forehead turns blue.

Q: Why do they call native men braves?

A: Have you seen the women they have to fuck?

Did you hear about the east indian man who put odor eaters in his shoes? He disappeared.

Q: How do you tell if a lesbian built a house?

A: There's no studs, it's all tongue in groove.

If a Hudderite couple gets divorced, are they still brother and sister?

I'm not sure if I remember any more of the jokes that Paul* told us. But he used to be a stand-up comedian. Blame him if you're offended, not me.

But when I heard the word "Brave", I definitely wanted to watch Ernest Goes To Camp. Who doesn't love that shit? Definitely me. I'm going to proudly watch Ernest Goes To Camp and think about really offensive things until I go to sleep. 

Good Night Calgary, and Good Night Adam, my friend for 5 Years. We don't need the theatre, because we have a long-ass friendship and siblinghood that isn't dependent on blood/legal relations.

A is for the way you look at me.

D is for the only one I see.

A is very, very extra-ordinary.

M is even more than anyone that you adore and love. 

Oh, wait, that's not ADAM, that's LOVE. Oh well, jugs of triples do that to you. At least I'm mostly coherent in this drunk post. Hearts and stars and kisses and love.