It started off as an old warehouse used for numerous businesses like Mohawk Rubber Co. and Tejano Rodeo. Now you know it as the Dallas World Aquarium, home to various underwater species. For only $18 (plus some tax) you get to feel like you are standing in the middle of a rain forest or getting the secret skinny about what really happens under the ocean's surface. Throughout the day they have feeding and performance times scheduled for almost everything from penguins to Orinoco crocodiles. Dallas World Aquarium also has a gift shop, bookstore and a few restaurants, if you feel like you need to take a break from the oceanic adventure. The best thing about this aquarium is that they're closed only on Thanksgiving and Christmas. So you can pick up and go whenever, except at night, because the animals need their rest too.

It's happened at least once. We have a personal account from a trusted source and read that saucy little blurb from The Dallas Morning News' Alan Peppard: In April, Preston Hollow residents George W. and Lady Laura arrived fully backed by black SUVs and Secret Service to dine at the Mercury Grill. Before they even received the menu, the former first couple was met with a standing ovation from fellow diners. Should we be surprised? Probably not given the old money and silver hair that is known to populate the bar and dining floor of the Mercury, but then maybe we have it all wrong. Perhaps the applause was meant as a "Glad you're back here, and not in the White House! Woo hoo!"

Who would have thought that a swift-boating Dallas billionaire would raise a daughter with a strong social conscience? But Serena Simmons Connelly, a social worker and the daughter of Harold Simmons, is one of the backers of It's a Grind, a unique Deep Ellum coffee shop dedicated to the mission of providing a livable wage, full health benefits and an ethical workplace to its employees, who are hired despite their troubled backgrounds—asylum seekers, immigrants, victims of domestic violence, ex-convicts, reformed prostitutes—pretty much anyone in dire need of a second chance. Its employment practices build fiercely loyal baristas who make a damn fine cuppa Joe, as well. The social experiment has only been going on since November, but it's building community while also serving delicious baked goods.

Yes, The Clubhouse, like so many other establishments on Manana Drive, is a strip club. And, as strip clubs go, it's probably not the tops in town. But, unlike the other gentlemen's establishments of the region, this one offers more to stare at than naked women. Owned by Arlington native and famed Pantera drummer Vinnie Paul Abbott, the club's walls are lined with something it usually takes more than a couple dollar bills to see: gold and platinum records signifying what's becoming more and more a monumental achievement in today's music industry—selling 500,000 and 1 million records, respectively. And it's not just Vinnie Paul's own records that line the walls. Plaques commemorating acts like Godsmack and others join his in what has to be the coolest music collection that Dallas boasts (apologies to the new Hard Rock Café in Victory Park). And it's all out there in the open, ready for you to scan. Just like the boobies.

Since the smoking ban, places in Dallas are still a bit stale, but it's nothing compared to the stank that once permeated hair and clothing after a night out in Big D. Even smokers had to spray down and air out. But no more. No more, that is, unless you go to see a band in Denton. Sure, Fort Worth still lights up, but without the intense fervor of Denton bar patrons. Stand next to four people in Denton, and chances are three will pull out a cig. We even put on our dirtiest jeans to avoid ruining clean ones when heading north. Save Dan's Silverleaf, which is smoke-free for many shows, watching a band in little d is like looking through a fog, and breathing it. So thank you, Dan. Maybe you can pave the way for other venues to provide a smokeless, odorless zone for drinkers and music lovers. Perhaps Denton can make a change...and not just out of those smoky jeans.

Actor-writer-director and self-described madman Matthew Posey lives not just for the theater but in one. The Ochre House, tucked between a couple of bars on Exposition Avenue just a corndog's throw from Fair Park, is Posey's experimental playhouse and his home (shared with a dog named Walter). The theater space is up front—a small stage, plastic chairs and shelves showing off Posey's collection of oddities. This year he's done X-rated puppet shows, premiered a biographical "autopsy" on the last days of Hunter S. Thompson (written and played by Posey looking eerily like the Gonzo journalist) and hosted Matt Lyle's quirky new comedy, Hello Human Female. There are hints of Posey's 1980s Deep Ellum Theatre Garage here, but with a new vibe that says, "Come in, sit down and see something weird and wonderful."

Sometimes the office, with its unnatural lighting and extreme temperatures, can get on your nerves and make you unproductive. Not to mention unfriendly. Get out for an afternoon and haul your laptop to this independent coffee house that feels more like a loving pal's living room. The furniture is a mix of thrift store finds and goods from estate sales. The sandwiches are made with love by the staff, and the vegan cookies are also tasty. We've never once had trouble settling in at a table and falling into a deep, productive trance with the help of the great music selection.

Like everyone else, we expected the trial of former Mayor Pro Tem Don Hill and four others charged with bribery and extortion to produce little drama. The case was going to be a slam dunk, right? The FBI had more than 30,000 hours in wiretaps, more than 5,000 exhibits and its biggest witness—Brian Potashnik—struck a plea deal the night before jury selection. But the opening arguments showed that the feds had a long way to go to prove their case, as the wiretaps they played didn't directly implicate Hill. As the witnesses began to take the stand, including Potashnik, the defense team (led by Victor Vital) raised doubts about strength of the case against the five defendants. All this and former council members Al Lipscomb, Diane Ragsdale and Sandra Crenshaw in the courtroom? Now that's drama.

If it's hard being a Republican these days in Dallas County, it's got to be even harder recruiting Republicans to run for office in Dallas County. But that's part of Jonathan Neerman's job as chair of the county Republican Party. (He is also a full-time attorney at a major Dallas law firm.) Though he is the standard-bearer for all things Republican here, he is not above criticizing his own party when necessary, sounding reasonable and prudent even at the risk of alienating that part of his party's base consisting of Christian conservatives and ideologically pure right-wingers. Instead, he hopes to expand that base by extending a bigger tent and appealing to minorities whom he feels are often more fiscally and socially conservative than many Democrats. Party chair may not be his final political dance card. Some say that he is interested in seeking higher office—if you call the state Legislature higher office.

The lobby of the Joule Hotel is a dark cavern that stretches far into the building. It's full of mesmerizing artwork by Andy Warhol and a rotating installation on the ceiling. Pay it no mind. Make your way to the row of elevators on the right. Get off at the 10th floor and push open the exit door to discover a breathtaking contrast between old and new Dallas. The pool deck is a modern marvel of luxury divans and cooling lavender mist. Drinks like the tangerine mojito, cucumber sage margarita and watermelon sangria go for $10. But all around you are the middles and tops of the famous buildings of Dallas' skyline. Some are vacant, but most are restored like this building's 1920s Neo-Gothic façade. The pool is public (for now).