Tag Archives: Buca

Brunch at Buca, between the cottage and Thanksgiving

The Beast and I blinked and there went summer, without a vacation together to speak of.

So, last week, I took three days off work. Friday and Saturday I spent with my mom. We did the usual: Costco, Walmart and the Superstore. I got her all stocked up with supplies. At Costco, a woman did a double-take when she saw me, my mom practically willing her to do so, and said: “You look like that girl from The View.”

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A couple of d-bags at D Bar

The Beast and I met up at the big Chapters at the corner of Bay and Bloor on Tuesday night. I found him in the politics section, gently turning over a tome on ISIS between his hands. “I have to go to the washroom,” I told him.

“Meet me in fiction afterwards,” he said. “I’ll be in the dick section.”

“Excuse me?”

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