The Tomahawk

So there!!

Screw you,  wolf fish, you mother fucking douchebag of an entree, you're NOT  the big cheese around here anymore.

 Tomahawk Steak is the clear victor.

Coincidentally, Victor was the name of our server last night.

Coincidentally ,Victor was the nickname Jim  once gave my vibrator, and good lord, Karen..have you no shame? 

 No filter?

Don't you see that it's TMI to disclose you had a waiter named Victor?

We spent Jim's birthday dinner at the Coal and Copper Steakhouse, where we were convinced to order the Tomahawk Steak(for two) that when you google it, it looks like something you'd use as a lethal weapon on a cheating ex, but when it arrives at your table, it looks like that brontosaurus rib that toppled over Fred Flintstone's foot-pedaled family sedan.

I'm getting ahead of myself, let's start with the appetizers before I do my hatchet job on the Tomahawk Steak.

 (I do have a photo of Jim gnawing on the bone from it and if he doesn't look like the  caveman spokesperson for Geico, then I don't know who does)

The included appetizer was foie gras, which I loved when I had it in 2016, but now it tasted like Play Doh, a taste I'm more familiar with than a grown-assed woman ought to be.

Then we ordered three little apps ala carte, a cheese that oozed something that was "probably" cheese when you stabbed it, but I wasn't taking any chances.

And then something that Jim swore was a shrimp cocktail, which was really good, especially in the dipping sauce, but then he told me it was prawns, so I had to stop eating them.

Jim:  I don't get it.  You said you were enjoying it.

Karen:  That's because I thought you said it was a shrimp cocktail, something I KNOW I like.

Jim:  But..you WERE liking the prawns..???

Karen:  We are done with this conversation.

The third app was something called "Bone Marrow" which Jim wanted to try because he never had before, but mostly because someone personally recommended it, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall who.

"Maybe you're thinking about someone you know who had a bone marrow transplant?" I offer, but nah, that wasn't it, and the bone came to the table with a slit in it filled with mediocre meat and veggies.

Finally our entree came, an incredibly delicious Tomahawk steak, that Jim swore had  a great crust, but even I would not eat a steak with a "crust"--it was obviously pan seared in something amazing before it was grilled and sliced on the bone.

Dessert was cheesecake  that tasted like perfume and dry, skippable  chocolate mousse, which was fine with us, because we indulged so greedily on the Tomahawk.

A big parade starts just then, with men in  all-white blowing on tubas accompanied by women kicking up their legs and handing out  firecrackers to everyone.

Jim, the conceited motherfucking douchebag says, "I told you not to make a fuss over my birthday!" but it wasn't about him..it was all about the penultimate goodbye to ALL the guests.

I sat there with my torch, fearing I'd accidentally start a fire, while Jim gnawed on every lass morsel of the Tomahawk.

We run into Tall Guy Jim and Carolyn, the one with the great stories about all the armless people in the remote areas of India, who were dining with a couple from Toronto, but she curiously forgot my name, as 'though it's possible for anyone to forget MY name in  2020/2021.

We ran into Elaine in the open area, who enjoyed her massage.  We were talking earlier about all the devices she  usually packs on vacation, lots of tablets to offer lots of Netflix options, but she only packed one this trip, which meant she could watch the show.

Last night's theme was "Carnival" and we got great seats , which meant we could see everything, which was basically more shirtless men dangling from something, and dancers, and singers, and dazzling costumes.

I know this resort attracts guests from all over the globe, so this is what they HAVE to offer--something in a universal language--but I wanted to hear a raunchy comic who wasn't a sexy German woman talking about douchebags on the public  beach.

(Yes, Norika,  I'm talking about you)

I miss  topical comedy and lusting for Jimmy Kimmel.

It's been so long since I've watched that at this point, I'd make Guillermo my "hall pass", but I've taped a week's worth of shows that I'll watch if we're ever allowed to leave the DR.

If we're able to get back to the US tomorrow.

We're scheduled for yet another Covid test this evening, and even 'though we're triple vaxxed, Birthday Boy might make us one of those "breakthrough cases" as he was pulled into a Conga line last night, probably because someone on the staff saw how coordinated he was as he bopped around to tunes from "The Greatest Showman" at the earlier "Carnival" show.

Or maybe he'll order that  wolf fish tonight, a cure-all for anything???

Wouldn't you know it, the one day we decide to skip the Name That Tune Game it's a salute to TV shows--American TV shows..but c'mon, how much entertainment do we actually need?

Jim is easily entertained by joining a disease-ridden Conga line.

Me?  

I was content just waving around the balloon I was handed, one that resembled a  long white snake.

I can easily amuse MYSELF if I have to, like when I rehash funny moments in my head, like the one that happened earlier in the evening when I answered a knock at the door once again with wet hair while only wearing a towel.

It wasn't a lost babysitter. this time...it was  a thoughtful staff member with a birthday card for Jim.

Now it's time to start my day.

Hoping for sun..and something to blog about later.