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| - When I started going out and social drinking in high school the place to be on a Friday or Saturday night was The Brunnie. It's a Bloor Ave. fixture. It's been around forever. And it's still one of the places to be. Our parents and our parents' parents drank and puked there. The Brunnie will always hold a place in my juvenile heart with slippery, muddy, dance floors, Toronto boys, excess pitchers of beer, 1 a.m. baileys & whip-cream shots that throw you overboard, hot dog vendors and street dogs that go down in 2 minutes flat then come back up just as fast (those damn sweet late-night shots!) We used to stand in line outside for over 2 hours in the middle of winter just to get in the door. The brunny inside looked like a giant German drinking hall with rows and rows of wooden tables and long aisles for the servers to run up and down, delivering pitchers. The dance floor was raised, cramped and slick, from sweat and spilt beers. I think I danced to Tom Cochrane's "Life is a Highway" 1,000 times on that stage in the years I went there. Anyway, the brunny doesn't look like it used to. We were happy with black floors, a glittery disco ball and beer specials. These days, kids have higher expectations. The place looks classier, has comfy couches and vintage-style decor. But the 'ole brunny is still just a place to get drunk, dance and shake up the week with your peeps.
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