Stripper Ferris Wheel! I’m coming Chad, Amanda, Dad, Diane, Darcy, Cory, Aunt Viv, … stock up on beer


Dear Olivers, dear Hurlbuts, dear Dibiases (French people!), dear Colemans, dear my way cool cousin that used to write funny crap on my facebook feed, dear way cool lawyer cousin that was always awesome to hang out with, dear whoever else I forgot, mostly to my little brother and dad and dear all of you.

To hell with it, I’m coming there to upstate New York next summer.

In my efforts to be the Billy Carter of our combined families, between making jokes about swilling beers and boobies, I forgot something.

That something is the following.  The wife has totally, and completely (I’m going to need some free legal back up here lawyer relatives) given me permission to plan a trip there this coming summer.

And here’s the deal.  The department I work in for the U.S. Army is the, “Plans and Operations Division” and you can ignore everything after ‘and’.

Let’s plan this.

Darcy and Chad, and by Chad I mean Amanda, I’m looking at both of you.   I’m pretty sure that fireman cousin of mine wants in but I can’t be bothered to look on Facebook for the name.   It’s Cory or some crap.

Yeah, yeah, when are you coming, yeah, yeah where are your going to stay, and yeah, yeah let’s talk, The fun.

The fun details follow.

Did I just impress anyone with my bold use of bold?  God I hope so.

The get together has to be at the Oliver farm.   Those of you reading this that don’t know there’s an Oliver farm will be shocked to learn there’s an Oliver farm.

It’s at the end of the Oliver road, a major super-highway that runs about a mile into the hills of upstate New York.  Really though it’s “Oliver road.”

I think the Gin Blossoms did a song about it once.

(Google), See here’s the lyrics,

“All of the pressure that I left behind
On Oliver Road
Fools in the rain if the sun gets through
Fire’s in the heaven of the eyes I knew
On Oliver Road”

Also fuck the Gin Blossoms cause that has nothing to do with Oliver Road … they’re tards.  I think we all agree.

The re-union or union or the party, let’s just call it a party, is going to need a crap-top of beer because of well, me.   Everyone else will have to bring their own.  Okay, okay the wife just said I have to share.  That means I have to have a, okay WE, have to have a crap ton of beer plus one.

I think we’ve all learned one lesson here.   Lots of beer is needed.

how fun is this?

Yeah great we ‘could’ mow grass or clear brush or we COULD tear around the area like madmen while swilling beers Chad! This combined with a Ferris wheel … well you pick.  Also guns. Don’t forget guns.

I’m pretty sure my little brother agrees when I say there should be rented ATVs.   Because it’s the farm and my Dad’s tractor aside, mud.

I think we should also have a ferris wheel with STRIPPERS!   We can put it down on the flats, with music.   Every seat on the ferris wheel has a stripper on it and when the music stops the stripper on the ground floor …

Hi, This is Dagmar, I’ve taken over the blog for a moment.   Hope you’re all okay, and we will see you all soon!   I’m also feeling much better and thanks for all the kind words when I was sick, it meant a lot to me.   No Todd, there will be no Ferris Wheel of strippers.  There won’t be a Ferris Wheel at all.  Where do you get this stuff?  Look I told you before to please stop saying bad words here.  Can you stop saying the ‘F’ bomb?  Thanks.  No strippers on Ferris wheels on the Oliver farm and no more ‘F’ bombs okay?  Thanks,  Dagmar.

…  and then when the fireworks go off we all totally hit the dynamite and rock this fucking party like

afua[ouda .arfau4q58d.

*)OD*S<>

Uoj(ukd<>

Okay sorry my head was just bashed into the keyboard and I’ve been informed that there will be no Ferris Wheel with or without strippers and that I should stop saying, ‘fuck’ so much.

Which is odd cause I thought fuck was a very funny fucking

A;uaplikjfdaiuzdpoiutaqcogf.

Okay.  LOOK.  I’ll stop saying fuck.

OUOPADUFIG*UP)C(*U(UD

Holy Moly!  I’m cured.  Lets’ have lots of potato salad, soft drinks and water balloon fights!  Maybe the Pope can come, who knows?

And fishing, seriously someone needs to bring fishing gear.    Cause I want to do some damned (Is THAT word okay?) fishing, there’s a trout that owes me somewhere in the little creek.

You all know which creek I mean.

This is Dagmar again, just wanted to add, Todd how would you know it’s trout, you’ve never fished a day in your life. 

What the fuck

apfu8adoiud

*#*D(*SKCJJgaukd ,d

Okay … okay.  Get off my blog woman.

Note:  What fun that was.   Look we are coming back there this summer Dad, Diana, Darcy, Chad, Amanda, Little Edward, and all other’s that care.   I’d like to do this right (for once) and see all of you and have a grand time at the old Oliver Farm.   Let’s do this.  We can plan it, talk about it, work it here or via email.  I care not, but let’s make this work.  I want to see an Oliver Farm Day.  Finally does anyone there know what the cost is to rent a Ferris wheel, don’t tell Dagmar.

5 responses to “Stripper Ferris Wheel! I’m coming Chad, Amanda, Dad, Diane, Darcy, Cory, Aunt Viv, … stock up on beer

  1. I love it. You tell the entire internet I’m French (I’m not, I married an Italian, that can kick your arse) and THEN you expect me and your poor sister in law to plan your Farm party. Get a clue pal, I plan parties at Lake DiBiase which include a lot of Jimmy Buffett and tequila (but do not include trout) and are awesome. Totally BYOF (Ferris wheel.)

  2. You’re both French aren’t you? Polish, French, Italian. Look aren’t we all American’s here. I know I’m singing the pledge to the national constitution at this very moment. “America, America god shed his light on Ferris Wheels full of strippers.” Or something like that.

  3. Thanks for the great laugh… Dagmar. Love the head banging! 🙂 Just so you know, we already have Oliver homestead days on the second weekend of August. Started it last year. Of course if you come at a different time, we can have another!
    See you next summer!
    Beth

  4. Somewhere between Palmyra and Rochester, Whittaker Chambers left a cold sixer inside a hollowed out pumpkin, even Tricky Dick won’t find it. Your mission is to find the communist six-pack and prove that Alger Hiss was a Tea-Totaler…

  5. Lmao! You are always a riot.

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