Turtle Farts
Ever notice how your farts after eating prime rib at the Turtle Club smell exactly like the prime rib from the Turtle Club? Not that I was the one doing the farting! Oh, no. Not me. I'm sweet, innocent and lady-like. I don't fart. Shorty, on the other hand, makes Scooby and Shaggy look like amatures.
One of Shorty's buddies gave him a gift certificate for the Turtle Club, so we met Warren and Sheilah out there last nite and stuffed ourselves!
The Turtle Club is a restaurant in Fox, which is just outside of Fairbanks, and they serve THE BEST prime rib in the known universe. The place looks like a typical back-woods Alaskan restaurant. It's a sketchy-looking building with sloping floors and a huge, unpaved parking lot. There are pine wreaths wrapped in white Christmas lights adorning the inside walls year round, the floors are creaky, the service is usually great and the food is spectacular. You'll see rough necks in flannel and yuppies in dress clothes. The menu, servers and cooks haven't changed in years and there is only one reason you go to the Turtle Club - big, bad ass prime rib. The menu is very limited and consists of the typical Alaskan seafood fare (halibut chunks, scallops, prawns, shrimp and escargot) and prime rib, with a few random appetizers (zucchini sticks and cheese sticks) thrown in. The salad bar is awesome, they have a great selection of wine, and, naturally, they serve Bud Lite, which is all the boys really needed.
I plowed my way through escargot while Shorty munched on ginormous zucchini sticks and Warren and Sheilah shared cheese sticks and shrimp cocktail. We hit up the salad bar after ordering our prime rib, well, with the exception of Warren, who completely broke the rules and ordered halibut chunks, (halibut chunks????? seriously!) and were so full by the time our entrees arrived that we managed a few bites before tapping out and getting to-go boxes. Our server must have some deal going with the Devil, because we were completely stuffed but Warren, Sheilah and I ordered dessert to-go off the dessert tray. After waddling back to the truck and fighting to stay awake during the 30 minute trip back home, Shorty and I passed out on the couch in a prime-rib enduced coma before stumbling to bed about 10:30. (Yeah, let's see how long you last after stuffing yourself until you almost pop!)
This morning I was awakened by the tantalizing aroma of Turtle Club prime rib - until I realized the aroma was wafting up from the sheets and Shorty was giggling like a little girl. The kittens had the right idea - they bolted as soon as they heard Shorty bust ass, and I followed, crawling on all fours on the floor and out of the room in order to breath in as much untainted air as possible.
ETA on Project: Eat All The Leftovers Before Shorty Gets Home And Devoures Them, Subjecting Me To Further Torture-By-Butt, 6:30 p.m.
posted by Arctic Skipper @ 12:10 PM
3 Comments:
That wasn't very considerate of Shorty. He should have pulled the covers over your head first.
Steph: See, I'm an only child, so I think Shorty torturing me is his way of making up for all the crap I never had to deal with as a child.
TFG: STOP HELPING!!! :P
BEOTCH!!!! You went to Turtle Club and didn't call me?!?!?! HMFF!! See if I ever talk to you again.......
.....but call me about this weekend! =0)
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