Arts & Entertainment

When the City Council debated a living wage for garbage truck crews, Angela Hunt went out and rode a truck for a day. Management in Sanitation Services wanted to put her on one of the new air-conditioned vehicles, but a worker whispered to her that the old un-air-conditioned trucks are the real story. So that's where she spent a very long, very hot day seeing the issues for herself. Of course, we wouldn't name her the city's best council person if she did things like that and then came to totally screwball conclusions. Nor would we choose her if all of her efforts were narcissistic and self-promotional. The overall package here is of high energy, deep focus, rock-hard integrity, a generally intelligent take on issues and an open heart. But more than any of these, the quality that always impresses is her vision for the city. She is a rare gem in a box of bolts—the very best we've got.

We've sung the praises of the Lakewood Texaco several times in our Best of Dallas issues over the years, and yeah, it's still a great gas station day in and day out. But every year on some random Sunday it becomes something more when the joint hosts one of its famous block parties, inviting neighbors young and old and fostering a sense of community rarely to be found in a gas station parking lot, or anywhere in Dallas for that matter. It's an anything goes, multi-cultural kind of affair—with live bands, a dunking booth, belly dancers and promotional beer girls all on hand to help the citizens of East Dallas feel a little closer for an afternoon. Here's hoping the new owners—who took over for the beloved Boueri family several months ago—keep the tradition alive (hint, hint).

Admittedly, we were a touch skeptical about the Deep Ellum Film Festival's transition from The Little Indie Fest That Could into The Big-Money Target All-Star Throwdown Jamboree scattered hither and yon. But, just two years in, the thing's a mighty beast—and mighty impressive, as the likes of Lauren Bacall, Charlize Theron, David Lynch and some dude named De Niro have piled into Dallas for a week's worth of screenings and highfalutin wingdings the likes of which most Dallasites never get to see unless their Dallas lives in Highland Park. But Michael Cain's fest makes much of Dallas look shiny and special: The West Village is hoppin', thanks to Magnolia screenings; Mockingbird Station's cram-packed, what with those Angelika screens running hot; NorthPark's packed, in no small part thanks to the red carpet upon which the most famous feet trod day and night; and all of Victory Park's a go-go, courtesy the host hotel (the W, natch). Really, for one week every spring, even we think Dallas is the most awesome city in the history of parking lots.

Denton artist and musician Nevada Hill made quite the mark on North Texas this year, contributing stellar cover art for releases by Record Hop, Dust Congress and Stumptone, the latter a vinyl-only release featuring two cardboard panels screen-printed with an imposing image of reverberating speakers. And while Hill's work for Record Hop is admittedly on a much smaller scale (thanks, CD format), it's hard to deny the appeal of the cover art, a quirky drawing of what appears to be a mangy lion crapping the band's name. You can spot the Photoshop a mile away on most local record covers these days. With Hill's DIY treasures, however, all you spot is blood, sweat and artistry.

For years, AllGood Café owner Mike Snider has booked well-respected and much-revered Americana and folk artists to the venues of Deep Ellum. These days, at his restaurant, he continues to do just that. It's a homey place, seemingly fit more for Austin than Dallas with its flair for memorabilia and its general hippie-ish attitude. Does that make the place stand out among Deep Ellum's rock clubs? For sure—but not in a bad way. Rather, AllGood is unique because the music played there fits right in with the restaurant's vibe, rather than with what's popular right this minute. You'll see folk, Americana, country and, yes, from time to time, your standard coffeehouse fare. But under Snider's discerning eye, you can rest assured that it'll be good. Oh, and by the way: the food? It'll keep you coming back even if Snider's taste in music isn't up your alley.

Considering the fact that we don't really like The Smiths (blame our college roommates), we weren't really sure about "Phil Collins: the world won't listen," the three-screen video installation presented earlier this year by the Dallas Museum of Art. But damn, if it wasn't the most entertaining thing we've ever seen in a museum, with the 1987 Smiths compilation, The World Won't Listen, repeating on a loop as fans from Colombia, Turkey and Indonesia sang along karaoke-style on each of the screens. We couldn't begin to pick a favorite image, though the chick in the wrestling mask and the unfortunate looking, teary-eyed Asian man certainly burned themselves into our psyche. We liked it all so much, in fact, that we went right out and got a pompadour.

For 23 years, Barry Whistler has brought seriously talented Texas artists to his Dallas gallery walls. And without fail, his exhibitions get the conversations going. From impressions and interpretations to artistic method, Whistler's gallery openings are abuzz with "I wonder..." and "That's so...wow." And that's what makes a gallery successful—when people actually talk about the art. The list of BWG's artists is impressive: Linnea Glatt, John Pomara, Allison V. Smith, Robert Wilhite (who presented audiences this year with one heavily discussed exhibition, The Bomb, featuring a skeletal, scaled-to-size sculpture of the Fat Man Bomb) and others. Plus, the gallery provides art lovers with a lively blog (barrywhistlergallery.blogspot.com) to catch the behind-the-scenes new and upcoming events in the gallery, which readers then discuss via the comments section. See what we mean about creating art dialogue?

From the tiled bar to the dark, mellow atmosphere to that ridiculous neon windmill on the roof, there's nothing contrived or even remotely close to pompous in this place. It's a neighborhood bar reminiscent of the little Manhattan dives where regulars know each other and call the bartender by name. And no wonder—the owner, Charlie, hails from the Empire State and makes the meanest New York deli sandwiches in the city. Seriously. We recommend the Reuben, but they're all perfection, especially after a long night of Jack and Cokes. Not only is there rarely a crowd of annoyingly drunk and entitled patrons, but the jukebox is one of the city's best, with hundreds of discs including Iggy Pop, Prince, Sinatra, Stevie Wonder and John Lee Hooker. What more could you want for last call?

Amazing drinks including a rotating schedule of featured drafts and bottles from the globe over. Incredible food from the favored steak sandwich to brunch. Monthly five-course beer dinners. Validated parking. Comfy high-backed booths. DJ nights. Friendly and fast servers capable of suggesting a drink to pair with food or food to pair with a drink. Reasonable prices often punctuated with drink specials or half-price food nights. Great location. Diverse crowd. TV choices perfect for a buzzed stare. The only thing that could possibly be better would be if The Libertine was located in a futuristic force field where all food and drink had no caloric effect on thighs or impending beer guts.

One Sunday afternoon not long ago, we sat at the MBar in Neiman's NorthPark Center location watching with great affection and no small amount of awe the care with which Jose Mejia mixed up his homemade Bloody Mary brew. On the counter sat a small vat of tomato juice; nearby, there was a large glass filled with Worcestershire sauce, into which he added generous dollops of Tabasco sauce, followed by the juice of freshly grated horseradish and several heaps of the white heat. He sniffed each container before blending them together for yet another smell test, then a taste test. "This way," he said, "you don't need salt, just vodka." He grinned, then poured us another refill, into which he dropped a stalk of celery the size of a baby's arm. We muster myriad excuses to belly up to the Mbar—most involving Sunday-afternoon football games on the three TV sets perched in front of the six stools, providing a welcome respite from the hubbub of overpriced commerce nearby—but, truth is, there's no better place to drink or eat or drink in the entirety of NorthPark; and Mejia, who's stood watch over the bar since its inception four years ago, is as generous and considerate a host as any afternoon mall drinker could ask for.

Sure, it's disappointing that a place with a name so associated with aliens and UFOs isn't decked out as such. In fact, the décor is a little confusing at the Saucer, as the walls and ceilings are covered with glass plates. But the place makes up for it with plenty of couches and a cozy room called the "Pub of Love," along with its unmatched selection of beer. On any given night, you've got a choice between 90 to 100 beers on tap and another 90 to 100 in bottles. Want a beer from the Czech Republic? They got it. Japan? Check.

When a musical needs a voice that can hit the back row, go through the back wall, into the parking lot and out to the stratosphere, the director calls for Megan Kelly Bates. The bouncy redhead sings, tap-dances and gets laughs, winning hearts and testing eardrums most recently as a yappy pup with a lot of high notes in Theatre Three's A Dog's Life. You've seen Bates, 28, in The Great American Trailer Park Musical and Urinetown at WaterTower, plus shows at Casa Manana, Contemporary Theatre and other stages all over North Texas. And where'd she come by those pipes? "When I was 5 and about to audition for my first show, The King and I, my mom put me in the living room, and we practiced my song. Then she had me sing in the hallway while she stayed in the living room and yelled, 'I can't hear you!' From there a belter was born!"

Reno's has the obligatory large windows that any biker bar needs so patrons between errands and work can keep watch over their babies, show 'em off and shop for new ones. It's also a great place to go—especially if you live or work in Deep Ellum—to kick back and enjoy a cheap drink and a little rock 'n' roll. The staff's friendly, and they play the good stuff like AC/DC, Guns N' Roses and Black Sabbath.

According to his blog, Pete's Place is "a running commentary on whatever strikes me at the moment," and the result is sharp and thoughtful commentary on issues ranging from college football to national politics. Pete Oppel, former music writer and entertainment editor for The Dallas Morning News, offers up a regular dose of movie and DVD reviews, and he also likes to talk about the Cowboys, Mavericks and Rangers. Oppel, who also served as public information officer for the city of Dallas, pays close attention to local politics and isn't afraid to call out public officials. Most of his posts don't get comments, leading us to believe that Pete's Place is drifting out in the blogosphere, buried among the zillions of other blogs out there. But that much effort can't go unnoticed for too much longer, as Pete's Place continues to slowly find its way into the personal blogrolls of people all over Dallas.

Is it a blues bar or a jazz bar? Does it matter? The music isn't the best thing about The Balcony Club; the musicians are. The bands that play this old Lakewood dive aren't exactly spring chickens. No, they're professional, and they've been doing this for years, thank you very much, so they'll play what they want. Oh, and they're good. Or good enough, at least to the point where The Balcony Club has remained a favorite despite its slightly off-the-beaten-path location (up the stairs next to the Lakewood Theater). But it's probably that very location that allows the place to keep its rustic, time-worn charm.

Craving to kick up a heel, cut a rusty or clog with a cutie? The Texas Twisters are a group of gay men and women whose passion is country and western dancing. Nope, you don't have to be gay to take part. Although most of the group is gay folk, membership is open to anyone with an open mind and a love of dance. Founded in 2000, the club's goals promote country and western music and dance, raise money for community charities and establish and maintain a dance team for performances and competitions. Wednesday night dance classes and monthly Club Night Out on Saturdays keep spirits soaring and toes tapping. The Texas Twisters' performance teams have won local, state, national and international awards, and plans are afoot to perform in Texas gay pride parades and to compete in the Texas Gay Rodeo Association Dance Contest. In addition to having fun and making friends, joining the club has built-in fringe benefits. Like finding a partner with rhythm.

The party celebrating The Southern Unknown was one for the books. Too many bands are content to stack a show with their friends' bands and just call it a "CD Release Party." Dove Hunter and the Double Wide actually held up the "party" end of the bargain, hauling out a snowcone machine and bringing in an all-female mariachi band from Fort Worth to open the festivities. Honestly, we had so much fun before Dove Hunter played that the band's actual set is something of a blur—but we certainly remember the party. Here's hoping the band gets to work fast on album No. 2 just so we can go to the bash.

She hits the switch every year on November 1. And for the next two months Liz Simmons' house is ablaze with 100,000 lights, a glowing 6-foot snowman and half a dozen blinking snow-pals, a twirling spider, an 8-foot sleigh and an illuminated tree on the tippy-top of her roof. Last year Simmons' display made it to the top 20 in a nationwide Home Depot contest. She adds new features every year with the help of a friendly electrician who makes sure her yard art doesn't black out the area in a surge. The energetic Simmons is a much-loved character in her Hollywood/Santa Monica neighborhood, which uses the display as the centerpiece of an annual block party. Let's be glad the neighbors are cool with all the hot wattage.

The Barking Dog out to keep Lower Greenville free of "scumbars" and the sumbitches who populate them is a filmmaker now—or, c'mon, don't you read our blog Unfair Park? Because, seriously, every Monday morning we know Avi will provide us with a must-see video in which a drunk or 10 are getting busted by Dallas' Finest. And Avi's no sideline cinematographer: He's up in their shit, taking their taunts, asking for more, getting plenty of action, yeah, that's it, hotter, let the camera see you seethe, bleed. We don't know that it makes one bit of diff—he's become quite the director, not so much the deterrent—but that's half the fun, watching Avi out on the mean streets in search of the trouble that usually comes right to him and, sooner or later, right to us via the Vimeo site to which he's now posting his widescreen wonders for which the Academy thanks him very, very much.

Faced with a need to refurbish many aging shade structures and build more new ones, the Park Department has been using shade structures as a way of bringing public architecture into neighborhoods all over the city. Assistant Director Willis Winters, an architect, invited leading architects in Texas and from around the world to submit designs. Scott Marek of Frank Welch & Associates designed a pavilion for the Lake Highlands North Rec Center near Skillman, with a floor that slopes up gradually to form a stage at one end for neighborhood gatherings. It is one of more than 40 unique pavilions that will be built in city parks. The pavilion program includes full restoration of nine 1930s WPA pavilions. When you think about the relationship we have with the sun here in North Texas, there couldn't have been a more thoughtful way to infuse meaningful civic architecture into the day-to-day landscape.

Just by looking at them, you'd never guess that Markus Underwood, Will Rhoten and Scott Quinn were especially hip guys. By day, they're just your average-looking alterna-dudes. But by night they become (respectively) DJs Nature, Sober and $elect, the finest dancehall DJs in Texas, let alone Dallas. When their powers combine, they go by the name "The Party." It's simple, but it tells audiences exactly what they're in store for when The Party's slated for an appearance at a dance club or a music venue. Heavily influenced by the '80s, the '90s and the cutting-edge tracks of today, The Party, thanks to its impeccable feel for crowds, has a knack for playing the song you want to hear but can't remember the name of.

Based on the election results of 2004, the city of Dallas is actually the 32nd most liberal city in the country. But you wouldn't know it, thanks to all the suburban interlopers running around. So it still came as somewhat of a shock when a crowd of thousands turned out on a bright morning—February 20—to attend Senator Barack Obama's pre-primary rally at Reunion Arena. Honestly, the rally itself was a hit-or-miss affair. Obama mostly repeated talking points from other speeches, while the introductory speech by Emmitt Smith left a little to be desired. But the 20,000-strong crowd put on a heck of a show, lending a palpable sense of excitement to the festivities and giving some of us our hands-down favorite memory of a seemingly cursed arena.

Skip the Metro section, and why bother reading a sports column when we all know those guys save their best bits for radio and ESPN? (We're talking to you Cowlishaw, Galloway, et al.) If you want to find a column worth your time—one that offers an original opinion and actually makes you think—you'll have to wade deep into the paper's editorial section to find the wit and wisdom of the much maligned (in these pages anyway) Rod Dreher. You may disagree with much of what he says—you may hate it, in fact—but at least the Crunchy Con does what a newspaper columnist is supposed to do, which is to make you pause for a moment and consider another viewpoint.

When Ann Williams started her modest dance company more than 30 years back, she probably had no aspirations to become an icon. From its humble beginnings in recreation centers, her company grew into the internationally acclaimed Dallas Black Dance Theatre and is soon to be one of the glittering jewels of the Dallas Center for the Performing Arts. The ensemble of 12 professionals performs a mixed repertory of modern, jazz, ethnic and spiritual works by choreographers who include Alvin Ailey, Talley Beatty, Donald Byrd and Alonzo King. These dancers enjoy a singular luxury in the world of dance: an 11-month contract. To keep up with demand, Ann Williams formed DBDT II, a semi-professional company of 12 aspiring artists from around the nation. When wishing good luck to dancers, never say "break a leg." But let's wish Ann Williams and her company another 30 years of great moves.

Fallout Lounge is small and intimate with just enough room to dance. There's a down-to-earth vibe that's the antithesis of the city's see-and-be-seen, must-be-on-the-list meat markets. Fallout can be mellow, a perfect place to go on a weeknight or after a show to sink into comfy couches while DJs spin lounge sounds. But on the weekends it's a great place to dance with a packed house and fast-movin' beats. Whether full or empty, weeknight or weekend, the drinks are strong, the tunes are solid and it's never pretentious.

Want to know where some of your tax dollars are going? Just watch the gritty detective work showcased on A&E's The First 48. The premise is simple: "For homicide detectives, the clock starts ticking the moment they are called. Their chance of solving a case is cut in half if they don't get a lead in the first 48." For regular viewers, you'll know the intro, but for those unfamiliar, flip on the show and you still might recognize something: Dallas. The detective unit of our fair "City of Hate" is one of the current over-worked and underpaid teams followed on the show. More often than not, we've recognized intersections and neighborhoods and for that very reason, we feel grateful to The First 48 for showing us the pavement-pounding and crazy interrogation skills of our brave badges.

Director Bruce R. Coleman likes to say he's been around Dallas theater so long there are 12 companies on his résumé that don't even exist anymore. That includes New Theatre Company, which he ran for seven seasons. These days Coleman is in demand from almost every theater in Dallas and Fort Worth. He's recently put up shows at Theatre Three (House and Garden), Uptown (Bent) and ICT (Dracula). His specialties: comedies and musicals. And the bonus: He's also a whiz at designing sets and costumes. Coleman's a big fan of the local talent he gets to put through their paces in plays. "The not-so-famous folks I work with are tons more talented than most of those big names you see in New York or L.A. I'll take [Dallas actors] Regan Adair and Arianna Movassagh over Nicolas Cage and Julia Roberts any day." His enthusiasm for theater is infectious. "It is a visceral and communal experience that electrifies for the sheer glory of sharing it with our fellow beings," says Coleman. "People should go to the theater because it reminds us how to be human."

It's not easy to find a laidback, just-dingy-enough bar that acts both as a backyard filled with fire pits and picnic tables, and a place to get down to your favorite DJ. And that's why we love it. The yard is sprawling, with a stage for local acts like folk-country band Eleven Hundred Springs. The inside of the little shack is about as big as a matchbox. Yet somehow it fits a pool table and games such as Ms. Pac-Man, as well as an itty-bitty dance floor. Which brings us to the DJs. At least three nights a week, the shack rocks with tunes spun by EZ Eddie, DJ Chikki G or, our personal favorite, DJ Sista Whitenoise. Forget the painfully monotonous and sterile house mixes of Uptown's exclusive clubs. Sista Whitenoise combines complex, layered beats and rhythms with the best of dance music, from Steve Wonder and Parliament to the Beastie Boys and MIA. She spins at Lee Harvey's every Saturday night.

Yes, it got flooded for quite some time this spring. Yes, it was muddy. But let's face it: You know it's the best dog park when people ignore the "closed" sign and hop fences in defiance of rain and muck to bond with their pups, mutts and AKC breeds. The small and large yards of the White Rock Dog Park are large enough to accommodate a healthy population of both under 30-pound and over 30-pound four-leggers, plus the swim section provides a different sort of canine fun (a ramped entrance helps fetchers return their sticks, balls and toys to dry land). Maintained by public donations and volunteer efforts, the WRDP is open daily from 5 a.m. to midnight (second and fourth Mondays are closed for maintenance) so even parents with bizarre schedules can snag some off-leash time for their fur-babies at the park.

The running joke is that this is the only theater in town with a longer line at intermission for the men's room than the ladies'. That gives you some idea how the audience tips. That they're gay gentlemen would be almost beside the point except that the Uptown Players troupe targets the gay male theatergoer season after sellout season, with Charles Busch drag comedies, raucous musicals such as Valley of the Dolls and edgy dramas by leading gay playwrights. Everyone's welcome, of course, at Uptown, and the loyal subscribers always are eager to bring newcomers into the fold. No audience laughs louder, weeps more unabashedly and applauds with more unbridled enthusiasm.

Movie ticket prices are into the double digits at most theaters, but there's still at least one theater in the area where you can see not just one but two new films for just $6. Galaxy Drive-In offers eight new movies on four screens every night, and you can watch two for less than some theaters charge for a single matinee ticket—from your car, folding chair or picnic blanket. Better yet, there are surprisingly affordable snack-bar munchies such as pizza, nachos and funnel cakes. The prices aren't the only thing that's retro, either. Promotional ads at intermission are straight out of the '50s, upping the nostalgia factor. Get there early to ensure you snag a good spot with time to spare for a $3 round of miniature golf.

Technology, shmechnology. Bluetooth, Blu-ray, blah, blah, blah. Toys are terrific and gadgets are great, but these modern times can turn tiresome. A litany of life's simpler pleasures is but a stone's throw down Interstate 35 where another dimension awaits. Troubles melt and tempers tame as you cross the border into a time gone by at Scarborough Renaissance Festival. Located in historic Waxahachie, this seasonal Renaissance-themed fest is based on the year 1533 during the reign of Tudor monarch Henry VIII. Visit 200 "shoppes" featuring handmade wares, take in a demonstration of glassblowing, blacksmithing or candlemaking, catch three full-combat jousts each day, watch a winged falcon overhead or mingle with "Queen Anne Boleyn." Full-bodied food is a favorite feature, and more than 20 tons of the festival's famous giant turkey legs are devoured annually, along with more than 60 other hearty foods that comprise the culinary adventure at this quaint 35-acre "village." And when the throat becomes parched, convey yourself to one of seven pubs and taverns and hoist a pint with a kindly innkeeper or, better yet, a lusty wench. What ho!

Bootcamp trainer Scott Colby, known as "The Abs Expert," offers free group classes every other Saturday morning at the bleachers and track at SMU's Westcott Field. In 45 minutes, Colby leads a grueling but doable workout that includes bleacher-running, push-ups, skipping, jogging, crunches and squats. The intense routine works the whole bod and leaves even the fittest participants ready to flop. Then Colby and crew head to a nearby juice joint to do a little socializing. Some 244 members have signed onto the free Meetup group, but there are usually around 20 to 30 who show up regularly. Beginners and newcomers are welcome, and Colby will help modify all the moves for first-timers. Bring water and a willingness to sweat, and in under an hour you're that much fitter. And for free!

Enough with overpriced happy hours and the sad effects of forgoing dinner for the movie theater: popcorn tummy. Ew. Instead, head to the Dallas Museum of Art's perfect date, the Late Night. On the third Friday of each month, our beloved purveyor of fine art stays open till Cinderella's curfew. For 10 bucks or less (DMA members and tykes under 12 get in for free), visitors can enjoy art, live music performances, movie screenings (past events have included classics, indie, new releases and art flicks), family activities, lectures and more. And you don't even have to put on heels after that bitch of a work week. Each month brings a new theme and a new chance to work a little casual culture into the weekend. See the new Judd Apatow on Saturday; hit up the DMA for some hot Late Night action come the third Friday.

Horror films are great. Nothing beats a good scare and some really bad acting. Nothing except local artist E.J. Antilla's Horror Remixes. As the Web site boasts, it's "All Killer, No Filler" when Antilla edits down B-rated horror flicks (think Hell High, Silent Night Deadly Night 2, Slumber Party Massacre and the like) to 30- or 40-minute flicks without all the lame side-plots and stupid dialogue. Each film's Horror Remix is basically a greatest hits of itself—gratuitous nudity, gore, sex and some seriously bad hair. All of Antilla's remixes are available for download or pop-up viewing on his site, and occasionally he'll hit the town with themed screenings. And for the blog followers, Antilla offers epilogues for most features with commentary from Thunderclap and Cheesecake (puppets with very particular tastes). Go see for yourself...but lock all the doors and windows first.

Don't know who'll be there when the roll is called up yonder...but here's where lots of folks will be when their number is called down here. Gaybingo is the silliest fun you can have on the third Saturday of the month. This long-running hit is one of Dallas' hottest GLBT events. Hosted by drag divas Jenna Skyy and former Miss Gay America Patti LePlaeSafe, this ain't your Maw-Maw's bingo, although she might be there in the crowd of hundreds whooping, hollering and hooting. Recently relocated to posh digs in the Rose Room, this high-octane game night features polished production numbers, full service bars and chances to win prizes and cash. Lavish themes are announced in advance, and attendees are encouraged, though not required, to participate. Careful not to break rules or throw 'tude lest you find yourself at the mercy of the BVDs: Bingo Verifying Divas, the fierce drag queens who keep order as they roll through the crowd on inline skates, tossing one-liners and insults. The event also benefits the Resource Center of Dallas, a nonprofit organization dedicated to serving the GLBT and HIV/AIDS communities. Tickets go quickly, but if you get in—Bingo!—you're in for some outrageous fun.

Gay guys get old too. And this social organization relishes and reveres the more mature man. DFW Prime Timers offer social, educational and self-improvement activities for mature gay and bisexual men and their admirers. General meetings (guests welcome) are held on the third Sunday afternoon of each month at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center in the Oak Lawn area. Being a part of Prime Timers can help widen a circle of friends with an endless array of scheduled and spontaneous events. Older gay men use the group to meet and relax with friends who appreciate and respect the accomplishments of a life long lived. This isn't your auntie's sewing circle, however. These still vital gents are young at heart and ready to roll with regular potluck dinners, movie nights, picnic outings, restaurant dining and theater trips. Sub-groups of this club are doing something nearly every day of the week. You're never too old to come out, you know.

Adair's is cool, if a little small. Hell, if you didn't know where it was, you might walk right past it—well, if your ears were somehow covered. Adair's makes up for its lack of stature by bringing in more than its fair share of bands to play on its right-by-the-front-door stage. And though the stage isn't necessarily exclusive to hosting country bands, it sure tends to lean that way most of the time. Plus, the bar's biggest draw happens to be a country act; The King Bucks, the area's most revered country cover band not named Boys Named Sue play the stage every Monday night to an attentive crowd of well-lubricated regulars by the bar.

Within every straitlaced lady there's a stripper busting to get out. Or so they think at the Girls Room, where the emphasis is on sexy exercise, not sleaze. There is something sort of nicely naughty, though, about classes called Beginners Pole Dancing and Intro to Burlesque. Learning to bump and grind in a safe environment is merely an avenue to self-empowerment and getting into shape, says founder Karyn Pentecost. Yoga, belly-dancing, "Pole-lates" and other variations of movement instruction also focus on feminine fitness. Sorry, no guys allowed, no matter how much greenery you throw at the scenery.

Rumblings down at City Hall point to Mayor Tom Leppert and the city council pushing for an extension of our current smoking ordinances to include bars and nightclubs by year's end—to which we say, what took you so long? Sure, there are some Observer staffers who might disagree, but there are also several of us who long for the night we can leave The Double Wide or The Cavern without reeking of music editors past and present. And spare us the "But it's a bar!" excuses. There was a time when it was OK to shoot people in saloons too.

From the outside, the Landing is unassuming at best. Not surprising, considering it proudly calls itself "an upscale dive" on the sign outside. So you walk in, allow your eyes to adjust to just how damn dark it is in there, and you maybe grab some of the surprisingly delicious bar food. And you relax. Subconsciously, you find your head nodding along to the infectious tune coming from the jukebox. You pause. You know this song...what is it? So you walk over to the source and flip through the rows of the machine's albums. Oh look, an Old 97's record. Hey, the Slider Pines. Wow—there's a lot of local discs in this sumbitch. Which makes sense when you find the disc you were looking for. Oh yeah, it's another local: Baboon. You thumb through your pocket, grab a crumpled dollar bill and you keep the local love going. Now this, you think to yourself, this is a jukebox you can get behind.

If spelling is an issue for your kid in school, you might want to plan his or her party with someone other than Kreative Kidz Partyz. But if you are looking for a place that puts the K in creative and takes the stress out of your party planning, then parents, look no further. This Plano party spot packages themes for birthdays at reasonable prices. By themes, we mean the current pop fixation of your 5-year-old: Disney princesses, Dora the Explorer, Hannah Montana, High School Musical, Pop Star Karaoke. Kreative Kidz Partyz does everything, from themed invitations to themed birthday cakes to themed costumes for the partygoers to themed party helpers. For 90 minutes of birthday party-crazy, you let the professionals take care of all the details. Plus there is no nagging cleanup afterward. There's even a thank-you note attached to the themed party favor. Thank you!

So, Gloria's isn't necessarily a club, per se. But, nonetheless, once a week, every Thursday night, Gloria's might as well be considered a discoteca thanks to the salsa dance party that takes place inside. The music comes courtesy of The Havana NRG Orchestra, a nationally renowned, Dallas-based Latin orchestra; by the time the band is in full swing and the dance floor has a crowd, you'll forget that you're having this much fun in a restaurant. No, you'll think you're somewhere south of the border. The best part: Though the restaurant charges a $5 cover charge to men at this popular event, the women get in free. Ay, Chihuahua.

Maybe not a great place to read, despite all those shelves of old books. But this bar, recently redone but, thank God, not too much, is an interesting place to read people. For the kind of grown-up date where you want a good drink and some meaningful conversation, the Library Bar has that old New York bar vibe. Some nights there's a pianist, tinkling the keys of the grand piano for some mellow show tunes and jazz. The lighting is low, the waitstaff is attentive when needed and the bartenders can mix a Manhattan. Start spreadin' the news.

In a local live music landscape filled with small, bar-like venues (yeah, you, The Cavern!); sprawling, massive ones (you listening, Superpages.com Center, Nokia Theater, American Airlines Center and Palladium Ballroom?); and the ever-dreaded McVenues (cough—House of Blues—cough), the Granada offers a phenomenal stage, an ace sound system, a primo location, and a kind staff. And it's completely independent, which allows for an open-minded booking process. It's appreciated by the fans, who turn out for country and hip-hop shows alike, and the artists who roll through town. Owner Mike Schoder proudly explains that many touring acts would rather play the independent venues than have to deal with national booking conglomerates like AEG Live and LiveNation. And the Granada is more than willing to accommodate them.

Having already played Hamlet, getting the lead as Jack, the main pup in Theatre Three's whimsical musical A Dog's Life, could have felt like a bit of a comedown. Gregory Lush, however, sank his canines into the part and made the show and his performance moving and memorable. The darkly handsome 36-year-old actor, a grad of UT-Arlington with an MFA from Ole Miss, has worked professionally in Chicago and Washington, D.C. Facing extended unemployment, he returned to Dallas last year and landed five consecutive starring roles. Besides the dog show, he was Professor Henry Higgins in T3's Pygmalion and the romantic lead in The Goodbye Girl. He recently played Uncle Ernie in Dallas Theater Center's huge production of The Who's Tommy. What next? "I would love to play Hamlet again," says Lush, who's also a teacher of Fitzmaurice vocal technique. "And Wolverine, if they ever make a musical out of the X-Men." Now wouldn't that be barking mad?

When she was 5, she performed an "interpretive dance" to Joan Jett's "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" and a career was born. Lydia Mackay, 31, comes from a family of actors and artists, so playing dress-up even as a grown-up is a snap. The SMU MFA grad recently played Blanche DuBois in Contemporary Theatre's A Streetcar Named Desire, Rosalind in As You Like It, Arkadina in The Seagull and Lady Macbeth. If she has a specialty onstage, it's classical roles, but she's oomphy enough to play bombshells. Here's what she says about being a Dallas actor: "So many people seem to think that you have to live in New York or L.A. to be a serious actor. Bullshit. Dallas creates a fertile ground for people who are serious about being working actors." See why we love her?

Who else could make a horny Haitian voodoo goddess, an aid worker turned African diamond smuggler and a bird watcher trapped in the Colombian rainforest seem not only familiar, but infinitely relatable? Only local writer Ben Fountain. The Southwest Review fiction editor, who is putting the finishing touches on a new novel based in Dallas, is the perfect writer for our time. In his collection of short stories, the exquisitely rendered Brief Encounters With Che Guevera, Fountain deftly navigated the world we now live in—one that has become increasingly dense and intertwined. Thankfully, Fountain is just getting started. His first novel, The Texas Itch, will be published early next year.

Record Hop's self-titled sophomore record stormed out of the gates when it was released in late March, offering listeners a furious, ferocious, angst-filled update on the post-grunge sound of the '90s. Is it groundbreaking? Maybe not. But, more than anything, it's a work of art—and clearly a labor of love for its members (front woman Ashley Cromeens, guitarist Scott Porter, bass player Corey Ward and drummer Tony Wann). Standout tracks "Skirtchaser," "Maths" and "End of Line" showcase this incredibly loud band's ability to throw out lightning-fast riffs and beats without batting an eye and also offer Cromeens' gritty vocals the perfect backing. Produced in Chicago by Steve Albini (Pixies, Nirvana), Record Hop was able to do its influences quite proud on this release.

Over the years the Texas/Dallas division on the seventh floor of the downtown library has acquired a collection of local history resources running deep and broad. Prominent citizens, local businesses and institutions have left papers, pictures and other records. Somehow, in spite of recurring funding cutbacks by the city, the division has managed to carefully catalog this material. Top-quality professional librarians on the floor are ready, willing and very able to help anybody who walks in, from sophisticated scholar to curious hobbyist. It's the best place in the city to get a sense of Dallas history.

The juvenile, angry sentiments so often spewed in the comment sections on WeShotJR do quite the disservice to the site's pseudonymous ringleader efforts. Stoned Ranger, as he calls himself, has his opinions on the local music scene—strong ones, too—and he stands by them, dammit. But unlike his harem of anonymous commenters who are quick to damn a band and claim it "sucks" without rhyme or reason, Stoned Ranger at least intelligently (and, quite often, persuasively) explains the rationale behind his take. Unfortunately, Stoned Ranger ("SR" to his minions) isn't the reason people visit WeShotJR; they may stay for his take, but they show up for the flamewars that take place between the "anons" he inspires.

Choosing the best TV anchor is tough, because even people in the TV business can't really tell you what makes a great anchor. They'll usually say ratings. But why is one anchor trusted and another not? It's called gravitas, and John McCaa has it. He communicates straight-on with authority that isn't stuffy or arrogant. We hear McCaa writes his own copy, but even when he has to wing it on breaking news, he's smooth. He's a master of the moment. That comes from years of experience, nerves of steel and solid news judgment. Once again, McCaa's the best anchor on our airwaves.

A few years ago Lee Trull was just another unemployed actor/playwright. The college dropout was struggling to get by on temp jobs and the occasional small roles, mostly smart-alecky dweebs. Then came the Kitchen Dog Theater premiere of Allison Moore's Dust Bowl drama End Times. Like a young Jimmy Stewart, Trull ambled across the stage, acted the thing to pieces and became a local star. After that came mostly comedic roles at Second Thought, Theatre Three and the Out of the Loop Festival. With the acting thing working, Trull reminded directors he's also a playwright. A good one, it turns out, with commissions from Stage West and the now-defunct Classical Acting Company, adapting Huck Finn, Pinocchio and Gift of the Magi. His latest is his own original idea, Tall Thin Walls of Regret, set in Dallas at the end of the Cold War. Already a company member at Kitchen Dog, Trull, 28, was named the first artistic associate and new resident company member at Dallas Theater Center. There he will write, act in two shows a season and teach. "He is an outstanding example of a talented local artist whose work we hope to support and develop in the coming years," says DTC artistic director Kevin Moriarty. Adds Trull, "I couldn't have written a better job opportunity for myself."

In the last year or so, the city's best long-form magazine scribe has given us tales about: the Bandidos motorcycle gang; some seriously scary cholos down in Houston; a killer nurse named Vicki in Nocona; and most recently, the story of four West Texas high school football stars who clubbed two deer to death for sport. His stories are better than the wildest fiction, and that's the best part—they're all true. Somehow, month after month, Hollandsworth, who lives in Dallas, finds quirky, offbeat stories that go a long way toward explaining why Texas is such a totally wacked-out place to live. It's a treat opening up Texas Monthly when he's got something inside it.

The renovations have done the old girl so proud, we just have to toss another Best of Dallas to the Inwood, where they recently replaced the standard movie theater seats with cushy sofas, loveseats, ottomans, throw pillows and blankies. Can't afford a 60-inch plasma for your den? Ten bucks gets you the comfort of home and a really wide screen. Truth be told, your standard stadium-style movie seats actually match the Inwood's new furniture for function, if you're there to watch the movie rather than snuggle. Still, we were able to settle in so well during a recent showing of Pineapple Express that we nodded out. Wait...did we just say "out"? We meant "off." Nodded off.

OK, so maybe we made up the part about the shooting. You can't blame a financially challenged Observer staff for trying to knock down property values in the city's coolest residential neighborhood. For those of you with money, Little Forest Hills still represents one of our area's best steals—a quirky, artist-friendly utopia plopped down minutes from downtown and mere blocks from White Rock Lake. Sure, there's a McMansion or five looming over the cottages and bungalows, but there's also an organized resistance to them, complete with protest art (one neighborhood home features a mock graveyard out front with tombstones emblazoned with the addresses of houses razed in favor of red brick monstrosities). Need a fun afternoon activity? Head up to TC Shaved Ice on Garland Road and loop back down to cruise the neighborhood streets—it's almost like being in South Austin, except these houses are half the price of those.

At last, a kid-friendly place at NorthPark that isn't trying to sell them something. Bookmarks is the new children's library tucked into the largest, glitziest shopping center in North Texas. With 5,000 items for kiddos from baby to tween-age, there are books, audiobooks, DVDs, CDs and laptops for public use. Free WiFi means you can check e-mail while the little 'uns are enjoying storytellers, puppets, magic shows or other special programs. Open every day but Tuesday.

Sure, the old place had its charm: Nothing says "lesbian club" like indoor/outdoor carpet, after all, and Sue Ellen's old locale had that in spades. But the old gal just grew too big for her khakis. The last few times we went there, it was wall-to-wall ladies, and not in a good way. There was no room to play pool, no room to mingle, no room to dance. So Sue Ellen's up and moved around the corner, and she moved into the 21st century while she was at it. The new Sue Ellen's is state-of-the-art, a glass-and-neon interior with separate rooms and levels. Stairs, plenty of seating, tons of pool tables, bars everywhere you turn...the place is like the Billy Bob's of dyke bars. Oh, and the place is an epicenter for a variety of entertainment: The large concert area upstairs provides ample space for local—and sometimes national—acts to perform, but downstairs you can still shake it on the soundproofed dance floor. How cool is that?

When Kevin Moriarty stood up to announce the 50th season lineup for Dallas Theater Center, no one knew what to expect. Then came his stunning news. His first directorial work would be the vintage rock musical The Who's Tommy, about as un-DTC as you can get. Also, he was hiring a nine-member resident company of local actors, something DTC hasn't had in more than two decades. And most shocking of all, he dared to utter the name of DTC's revered but oft unmentioned founder, Paul Baker. This wasn't just lip service to Baker, who was deposed from DTC in 1983. Moriarty had spent time with the legendary director and teacher, now 97, to help define his theater's past, present and future. In his first year on the job, Moriarty has earned goodwill by making his presence known at nearly every theater in town, seeing shows and meeting actors. Giving support to the city's theater artists has given them the respect they deserve and provided a new goal. After feeling shut out for far too long, Dallas actors, thanks to Moriarty, once again have a shot at the Dallas Theater Center spotlight.

Head east on Spring Valley Road between Preston and Hillcrest, but not too fast. Drive quickly and you'll miss one of the most amazing outdoor art displays in Dallas. There on the right, turn into Valley House Gallery & Sculpture Garden, park your car and walk along a pebble path that allows you to look and linger on the lush grounds of the home of Kevin and Cheryl Vogel. Currently situated among the reeds, vines, flowers, trees and ponds on their 4.5-acre wooded estate are abstract metal sculptures as well as sculptures of people in various states of repose and play, works by Charles Umlauf, Mike Cunningham, Charles Williams, Nat Newlean, David Hayes and Frederich Sotebier. And there is no such thing as a trespasser at the Vogels' garden—not Monday through Saturday between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m., and not if you stay away from the Vogels' private residence, which is also on the grounds. These works of art set among the garden are available for public viewing, free of charge. Of course, if you want to take home any of these sculptures, or any works of art inside the gallery, which is also nestled onto the grounds, that will cost you.

In 2006, the Dallas Museum of Natural History, the Science Place and the Dallas Children's Museum merged, forming the Museum of Nature and Science, the sort of place you could get lost in for days. For the kiddos, you can't beat the new Children's Museum. Check out the Little Urban Farm, where kids can play farmer for a day—milking a cow, gathering eggs or driving a tractor. At the Fire Department section of the museum they can practice being an EMT or a firefighter while dressing up in child-sized gear. This is one merger that really made sense.

Not a first date, unless you're the type who thinks a burlesque re-enactment of a Battlestar Galactica scene is the kind of first impression you want to make. But if you're not in the mood to impress and don't mind slumming it a bit, Pocket Sandwich Theater is, if nothing else, fun. They specialize in what they call "popcorn-throwing" comedies, stuff like Attack of the Killer Mutant Leeches, in which audience participation (especially the throwing of popcorn) is encouraged. The food isn't great, but drinks are cheap, and hey, where else can you see a woman strip down to a G-string and re-enact the Napoleon Dynamite dance?

In most towns, the nerds who like to dress up in medieval battle gear and wage "war" are relegated to some far corner of the playground. Not so in Waxahachie. In this town just 35 minutes south on Interstate 35E, the Renaissance-loving dorks aren't just celebrated; every April and May they take over the town. That's just one reason to check out this town of 20,000. Another reason is the Webb Gallery, a 10,000-square foot space off the main square that revels in the weirdness of folk and "naïve" art, from carnival banners to disturbing Masonic masks. Collectors come from around the country to see what new stuff the Webbs have found. The town's also full of gingerbread-style architecture. Back in the 1980s major motion pictures, including Places in the Heart, loved this place. We know it has a special place in our heart.

When the Dallas Zoo's 39-year-old elephant KeKe died in May, the media spotlight shined on KeKe's cage mate Jenny, who either needed a new home or a new buddy. Zoo officials decided to send Jenny to the Africam Safari Park, a drive-through zoo in Mexico. A group called Concerned Citizens for Jenny, along with council member Angela Hunt and even actress Lily Tomlin, demanded that Jenny instead be sent to the Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee, where she would have more space to roam. Eventually, the zoo and Park and Recreation Department chose an option that no one was fighting for: Keep Jenny in Dallas by bringing in another elephant and building a $40 million Africa Savannah exhibit. We're not sure where Jenny's future should be spent, though anywhere but Dallas is best given the knuckleheads making the decisions in this city.

It's 2:30 in the a.m. on a weekend, half-past last call, and you're closing down some bar on Lower Greenville or in Deep Ellum or on the Southside—it doesn't matter. All are within designated driving distance of Café Brazil on North Central Expressway, assuming your designatee knows the way. If the two-hour wait isn't sobering enough, pour yourself a cup of coffee or three from the seven varieties that are offered at the self-serve coffee bar. The aromas and roasts will wake the drunk right out of you. And it's breakfast anytime, with omelets fluffy and fat with veggies and other treats, which are also good for grounding. If the French toast, which rivals the best in town, is too sweet for the bourbon and Coke you've been gulping all night, try the BLT or the grilled cheese or whatever lunch item suits you. And when you've had your fill, make sure that you can drive, because it's your ass that will be toast if you pick up a DWI.

Why so serious, Dallas nightlife? We already work all day, pay bills, eat salads and do all that other grown-up stuff; our "fun" shouldn't be limited to trendy bars with long lines, dress codes and drinks we can't pronounce (or afford). Inner child, meet Barcadia. With '50s pinup girls on the walls, The Cure playing in the background and an entire wall of '80s arcade games for a quarter a play, it's a refuge for Denton kids who graduate and move to the big city, ex-brat packers feeling nostalgic or anyone who's bored with the scene. Here you can still get your pretty people on the patio along with drink specials every night, super-friendly bartenders and skeeball. Yes, skeeball. And you don't have to wear heels or pay a cover.

Yes, it's sort of far. It's 20 minutes outside of Dallas. But you need it, because you're sick of sucking tailpipes and the never-ending tangle of freeways that is Dallas proper. You need to breathe deeply, to take some dirt in your hands, to see some blue sky. At an elevation of 755 feet, they like to say that the Cedar Ridge Preserve is a slice of the Hill Country in Dallas. The preserve, which spans 633 acres, features 10 miles of hiking trails, a native plant nursery and butterfly gardens. Really want to get your hands dirty? Come out in June and July when volunteers hack the weeds around the Cattail Pond.

By looking to the past every so often we can avoid taking the present, and certainly the future, for granted. Try a stroll through the "living history" at Dallas Heritage Village. Costumed interpreters invite visitors to help with farm chores (you gotta love a good sheep shear), hear stories of North Texas during the mid-19th century and early 20th, and even learn about pottery, self-sustaining households of yore and traditional Judaism. The village says, "The light from the past can illuminate the future." And we couldn't agree more. After all, seeing a detached kitchen only makes us appreciate the fantasy cooking haven we have planned for our dream house. And who doesn't need a reminder that running water ain't too shabby?

Ah, sorority girls. So cheerful, so put-together, so...likely to have a nice car and a trust fund. They're alluring for so many different superficial reasons. And, because, here in Dallas, you're most likely to find them at and around SMU, your best bet to meet one is at the Barley House, a favorite among SMU greeks. Seriously, they're all over that place, getting in your way as you try to order a drink, yapping loudly to their friends as you try to watch a game on the projection screen, glaring at you as you ogle them—it's obnoxious, really. And yet...enticing? The best part—you creepy, creepy pervert, you—is that you can tell your friends that the reason you're really going there is because you want to see this great new local band play the Barley House's stage. Ha! Yeah, they'll believe that. Right.

The food at the good ol' TC hardly does a body good, but after a night of going hard at the bars on Lower Greenville, few drunkards seem to really care. And, as a result, the crowds show up in force at this branch of the Taco Cabana franchise once the 2 a.m. cries of "Last call!" make their way up and down the strip. They make it nearly impossible to grab a bite of fast Mexican without having to deal with half-hour-long waits first. But it's quite the place to see some hilarious drunk action too—which is why you can always see a cop, eyes droopy from dealing with the crowds over the course of a long night, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world, stationed by the door on the weekends. Say pretty much anything you want to him. Unless you're stumbling-over-yourself drunk, you're the least of their worries.

When you're landlocked and the closest river is low and sluggish most of the year, you have to take your running water where you can get it. The fountains at Addison Circle are a great place to eat lunch on your work break, take the kids to play when it's hot, or stargaze at night. Plus there are nearby performance halls, outdoor fields and walking trails, as well as exhibit space for art. Whatever the weather, the fountains make it easy to pretend you're sitting in a waterfall-filled Zen garden.

Earlier this summer, the folks who run Greenville Avenue Pizza Company decided that they needed to bring some entertainment into their Lowest Greenville restaurant. Who knows why—the lines for their slices are so long after the neighborhood's bars let out, but maybe they were just sick of missing out on the pre-2 a.m. crowd. Along the way somehow, the owners got hooked up with a group of semi-professional magicians. And before long, the restaurant's newest, um, attraction was born: Every Wednesday night, a group of five or more magicians stop by and try out some new tricks for a curious, pizza-eating audience. Because it's not an official performance, the show's pretty informal—so much so that you've got a damn good chance of seeing a few tricks fail while you laugh silently to yourself and smugly make your slice of pizza disappear before the magician's eyes.

Located in Oak Cliff, Kiest Park's 2.8-mile path is perfect for anyone looking to get fit without paying a gym membership. It winds through dense woods that provide shade during the hottest summer days and features several stations for modified push-ups, sit-ups and climbing exercises. Best of all, your eyes will not get bored. There's the pretty scenery, sure. But even better are your fellow exercise enthusiasts. You're guaranteed to see at least a couple of hotties every time, but our favorite people-watching sport is looking for the mysterious trash-bag people. For some reason, many of Kiest Park's walkers and joggers favor a strange outfit that looks exactly like an inflated trash bag. Often clinging to the material are beads of moisture that might be distilled sweat. Are these bizarre outfits intended to increase weight loss through excessive perspiration? Is their aerodynamic inefficiency intended to increase resistance? Or are they simply fashionable among middle-aged Hispanics? Figuring it out will give your mind something to do as you torture your body with exercise.

Don't lie. You like a little toilet humor here and there. And you like rock 'n' roll, yes? Well, the love child of rock and shock value is Stage Dumps. Created by some well-known but slightly secretive Denton-based musicians, the blog pays photographic homage to musicians who rock out so hard, it appears they've filled their diapers. But fret not. It's all strain and posture and no actual elimination. Aside from slightly humiliating pics of our favorite bands, Stage Dumps excels in its tags. Some of our favorites include "no shame," "proud clencher" and "standing in my own fog." A pic of Rod Stewart is posted as "forever dung"; Joe Satriani is titled "Shitting With the Alien." Local Will Johnson is pictured perched in Good Records under "Fart Recovery." Loads of fun, Stage Dumps is nothing short of craptacular.

With its semi-industrial location and red brick exterior, Brooklyn Jazz Café indeed evokes the mighty borough that is its namesake. Inside, too, the rough-hewn brick walls, copper bar top and intimate feel are urban and urbane. It's clear someone put some thought into the detailed décor and, for once in this town, didn't go cheap on executing a vision. Every time we enter the place for a glass of wine and some downright soulful, amazing jazz, we remember: Dr. Cliff Huxtable lived in Brooklyn, and he too liked jazz. Coincidence? We thought so, until we looked around and noticed a number of hip, grandpa-aged men sporting "Huxtable" sweaters—those loose-hewn acrylic numbers, each with its own unique, complicated geometric pattern. It makes the whole thing kind of eerie, like stepping into a time machine and a television set. But no matter—the ambiance at Brooklyn is one of Dallas' semi-known—but still underappreciated—gems, a nice spot for a cocktail and some always varied, always riveting jazz.

Hey, you, the writerly type. We know you're shy. We know you'd rather sit inside with your nose in a book, keeping humanity at bay. But you have to leave the house sometime, so you might as well do some good while you're out there. We recommend volunteering with the Writers in the Schools Program (WITS) and its companion, Writers in Neighborhoods (WIN). Both focus on getting kids to use their imaginations through the use of reading and writing skills. The programs are fun, you get to know some great kids, and you get to see great results. WITS director Sue Glenn says many kids in the program show healthy improvement in their test scores. And that spells success that could change lives.

Getting out of the parking lot at The Palladium or Gilley's following a packed concert is like sitting in a traffic jam on LBJ Freeway, except your ears are ringing and the other drivers are drunk. But if you aren't in a hurry to get home—and that's probably a moot point anyway, considering the traffic—Absinthe Lounge is within stumbling distance of the venue. The club is host to jazz or acoustic live music on most nights, offering a relaxing way to wind down after a loud rock show, and overstuffed couches in a cozy, dark bar are a relief after a standing-room-only show.

Visiting Adventure Landing, it's hard not to picture yourself in some classic teen movie, à la John Hughes, mustering your courage and making your move after slyly teaching your date to putt. A high-tech gaming center this isn't, but it's got all the staples—old-school laser tag, batting cages, an arcade and our personal favorite, go-karts. Throw in the classic '80s soundtrack blaring on the "three uniquely themed 18-hole miniature golf courses" (actually, between the fake concrete caves, the elephant statues and the stinky moats, they're all about the same) and you'll have visions of Cusacks, Ringwalds and Brodericks dancing in your head in no time.

In its 50th season the theater founded in 1959 by renegade director Paul Baker will spend a year saying goodbye to the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed building on Turtle Creek (now owned by the city of Dallas). In 2009 DTC will move into the 12-story Wyly Theatre (designed by Rem Koolhaas) at the multi-venue downtown Dallas Center for the Performing Arts. Before the relocation, it's time to recognize a shift in attitude and a new dedication to local talent at DTC. Under new artistic director Kevin Moriarty, the theater is returning to Baker's regional theater philosophy of encouraging local talent and debuting new work. The season opener, The Who's Tommy, directed by Moriarty, cast Denton rock band Oso Closo and four Dallas performers—Cedric Neal, Liz Mikel, Josh Doss and Gregory Lush—in lead roles, a big change from past seasons when actors were imported from New York City for starring parts and locals were relegated to spear carrying. Moriarty has also aligned DTC with SMU's theater department and has expanded free theatergoing opportunities for children and teens. There's big buzz about DTC again, and if, like us, you heart the arts, that makes the future of theater in our city pretty exciting.

For GLBT teens, horror can replace happy in what should be a carefree rite of passage. Even today with more tolerant attitudes, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender youth often face taunts and bullying at school. And what happens on prom night? At the Gayla Prom for GLBT and "questioning" youth, it's all about taunt-free fun. One of the largest events of its kind in the country provides the chance for kids to celebrate prom night with their friends in a safe environment. Now under the loving care of the Resource Center of Dallas, the Gayla Prom held its 11th annual party in May, and plans are already under way for 2009. About 25 percent of attendees are straight and come with gay friends. Many who have taken advantage of this unique evening say they felt they could be themselves for the first time in a social setting and for once didn't feel isolated from their peers. There's something prom-ising about that.

If there's one thing the Choose Your Own Adventure books of our youth taught us, it's that you must look for the obvious clues. So if you're driving down Northwest Highway and come across Goforth Road, you should probably take the detour. Behind Flag Pole Hill you'll find White Rock Stables, a relic from the days when this part of Dallas was still out in the country. Sure, there's a horse or two that will amble up to the fence for a photo opportunity—beware, the beasts will bite—but we go to check out the peacocks strutting regally through the fields, or better yet, the neighborhood behind the stables, where white peacocks with 6-foot tail feathers roam yards and porches.

Every day the vision gets a little clearer of what the new Dallas Center for the Performing Arts will look like. Right now it's still a towering jumble of beams and cranes, but by fall 2009, the $338 million complex of state-of-the-art theaters and concert halls will be complete. The four venues: the Margot and Bill Winspear Opera House, Dee and Charles Wyly Theatre, Annette Strauss Artist Square and City Performance Hall. More than 600 performances a year are expected to draw audiences to the multilevel theaters that will provide new homes for five resident companies. The Dallas Opera and Texas Ballet Theater will perform in the Winspear, while the Dallas Theater Center, Dallas Black Dance Theatre and Anita N. Martinez Ballet Folklorico will perform in the Rem Koolhaas-designed, 12-story Wyly. Nonprofit TITAS will become the resident fine arts presenter at the DCPA, bringing performances of dance and music every season. Chasing that "world-class" moniker for years, Dallas may at last have a superb showcase for the arts.

Technically, we suppose a metal embossed plaque on a near-empty shed in the Farmers Market isn't really a sculpture per se. Much the same way, a boulevard isn't an avenue and an online poll isn't the same, say, as casting a ballot in the city council elections. Nevertheless, we're going to bend the rules a bit—there's a lot of that going around—and give this award to the Chávez plaque, which honors the late labor leader's tireless efforts on behalf of impoverished farm workers everywhere. Dunno why, exactly, but there's just something about reading it that reminds us of home.

With his soothing voice, Paul Slavens sounds like your standard National Public Radio personality. But Slavens is so much more. He's a composer, an improv musical comedy genius (his Monday night residency onstage at Dan's Silverleaf in Denton is becoming legendary) and, best of all, a go-to source for locally produced songs and long-forgotten gems. He comes to his knowledge rightfully as the former frontman for the jazz-rock combo Ten Hand, an act that once graced the stages of Deep Ellum. But now that he's older and, um, balder, he remains entrenched in the local scene thanks to his calming, end-of-the-weekend, listen-and-let-the-world-slow-down-for-a-second radio show.

You go up and down the dial searching for something to listen to. A good song, maybe an interesting sports discussion or a breaking news item. And somehow you find yourself riveted to a discussion on infidelity or just a gaggle of dudes giggling away at one another for being stupid. You're listening to professionals paid to sound like amateurs. But. You. Can't. Stop. That's just how Live 105.3 seems to work. There's no music and no real platform behind the station's talk format (unless "guy talk" is a viable radio term). No real redeeming quality to any of it. And yet you listen, and you keep listening and before long, you've set the station as a preset on your car stereo. And now you don't listen to anything else. And you hate yourself for it, but you kind of enjoy it too.

Mayor Tom Leppert and the city council have spent much of 2008 moving forward with plans to build a $600 million, publicly funded convention center hotel. Most of the key decisions regarding the project, such as selecting the site, funding method and developer for the hotel, have taken place in executive session, with the taxpayers left in the dark. Leppert, along with the council and Dallas Visitors & Convention Bureau, have assured the public that this hotel will be a money maker for the city and is an essential tool to bring more convention business to Dallas, especially because everyone else has one. We think this is a great argument, as we used it often to get what we wanted when we were in third grade. If a referendum happens in the future, we can only hope the argument elevates to middle school level.

If you're not much for sports talk or wingnut political commentary, your radio may have gathered dust recently. Well, the sounds of "Desi" await you on 2-year-old community station Radio Salaam Namaste. For variety, there's no other station offering anything like this—the best sounds and top news (in four languages) from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal and Sri Lanka. We're not talking belly-dancing beats. It's a sound that's been copied by Shakira, Madonna and Missy Elliott. But this is the original stuff, straight from the sub-continental source. It's hard to pick up the station's signal outside of Irving, but you can listen live on the Intertubes.

It hasn't been easy for artist Brian Gibb to move his Art Prostitute gallery—now called The Public Trust—from comfy confines down to the nitty-gritty of Deep Ellum. But Gibb is as committed to saving the neighborhood as the next guy; that's part of the reason he's there. And thanks to his efforts, Deep Ellum is becoming a new Williamsburg (Brooklyn), a gathering place for up-and-coming artists who have formed a loose-knit collective dedicated to building the local scene and putting it in the national spotlight. The work Gibb displays at the Public Trust is street-smart, subversive and oddly accessible to even the most neophyte art lover. There's an art to starting a forward-thinking movement like this.

Criminal District Judge John Creuzot has been a political prize for both parties since Dallas County woke up during the Reagan revolution in the mid-1980s and realized the courthouse was rife with partisan politics. Creuzot was originally appointed to the bench as a Democrat but had the survival instincts to jump ship in the mid-'80s, as did many Democratic judges coaxed to switch by Republican organizers and demographics. Creuzot's Republican street cred served him well, enabling him to hold onto his bench for several elections while he became one of the most innovative jurists this county has. He's implemented programs such as DIVERT court that provides addicts with alternatives to incarceration. A national voice in the drug court movement, he has recently been the creative force behind a kind of "Hookers Court," which tries to break the cycle of habitual prostitution. With the Democratic demographic shift in 2006, he again saw the handwriting on the wall. Facing accusations of opportunism, he is running as a Democrat in November and his party bosses couldn't be happier, seeing his flip-flop as a sign of the times. Of course, if McCain runs well in Dallas County and takes the bottom of the ticket with him, the Republicans will exact their own form of cosmic justice.

The Video Association of Dallas knows a lot about teamwork. Sure, it's easy for some folks to say they work best on their own, but nothing incites team building than a crazy-awesome movie contest that allows people to not only be on the big screen (you know you live for it), but also to finish their own freakin' film (even if it is five minutes long). Oh, and there's some talk about winning, but we all know it's for the team experience, not winning, right? This year around 100 teams participated in the VAD's seventh annual 24-Hour Video Race. The rules state that equipment (cameras, mikes, etc.) must be provided by the teams themselves. VAD only offers one mini-DVD tape to each team. It's a challenge made no less difficult by a required theme, location, prop and one line of dialogue. Teams must complete their entire entry (editing, musical score, credits, zany graphics and all) in 24 hours. It's a trying event that somehow makes everyone want to try.

It's one of the last remaining bastions of the old heydays of Deep Ellum, but since new ownership took the storied club over in late June, Club Dada has been wowing music fans by hosting an impressive schedule of well-known touring acts within the confines of its not-so-huge space. Changes are still in store for the club, and yes, there have been bumps along the way as the club's new owners have aimed to change the public perception of the venue, but for the most part, the renewed energy is not only welcome, but infectious as crowds slowly trickle back down to the once-legendary neighborhood.

Honestly, the Palladium Ballroom is more akin to an airplane hangar than an actual ballroom—even the main room at the House of Blues has more personality. The Loft upstairs, however, is another animal entirely, with great sound, a classy hardwood-and-brick decor and that rare aesthetic touch that escapes most local clubs: windows. It's the balcony outside that may be the best feature, with gorgeous, panoramic views of downtown and plenty of seating in case the opening band is skippable. On a nice night with the right band playing, there's really no better hangout in the city.

He's a three-peat choice in this category, but Randel Wright has little local competition in the area of theatrical set design. Wright now works full-time as design director for Dallas Children's Theater, but his exquisitely rendered and beautifully constructed set pieces have adorned stages at Dallas Theater Center, WaterTower, Contemporary Theatre of Dallas, Circle Theatre and others. A midlife return to theater design was a big career risk for the architecturally trained designer, but he hasn't looked back since re-entering the theater world a few years ago. Dozens of productions later, he's at the top of his profession. Look closely at his sets. He doesn't just paint walls and pick out furniture. In his designs are visual interpretations of the playwright's work. For WaterTower's recent musical A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Wright's set wrote its own jokes. He incorporated dollar-store gewgaws all over the stage, edging the gauzy curtains with "fringe" made out of plastic spoons—a little dig perhaps at how much the actors were chewing the scenery with their performances.

Where can you find a great patio, tastefully funky art and décor, as well as a killer skyline view? This bar at the Belmont Hotel is the perfect combination of all three. Perched on a hill in Oak Cliff, the place looks out at the city with an attitude of decidedly confident and relaxed cool, a great combination for a lively birthday gathering or an intimate night out with your significant other. The cocktails are tasty, the service is friendly and efficient, and in the summertime, you can follow up happy hour with an acoustic concert poolside on the grass.

You say bowling alley; we say sports bar, because that's what it is, damn it. Sure, there are 30 state-of-the-art bowling lanes in the main area, and the score-keeping system is so high-tech and obvious, there is no hiding a bad game, though the black lighting offers some degree of anonymity. But just look at the name of the place: "300 Dallas." That conjures up a bar, a nightclub, scenesters, maybe even a strip joint. There is a large bar, an attentive waitstaff that will help you with the size of your balls and shoes, good pub grub and flat-screen televisions playing mostly sporting events and placed in front of you above the pin decks, one screen for every two lanes in the bowling alley. Sorry, sports bar.

Several years back, we accompanied Lodge owner Dawn Rizos to Las Vegas. No, for a cover story, jeez. Anyway, the occasion of the sojourn was a piece about Rizos, then vying for the award of Best Overall Club of the year during the annual Gentlemen's Club Owners Expo, where such prestigious honors are handed out. Never forget that trip: booze and boobs, chief among them the night's MC Pauly Shore. Well, after years of playing topless-bar Susan Lucci, the Lodge finally picked up the honor a few weeks back, and rightly so. Because, look, we won't beat around the...um...we'll come clea...erm...straight up, this is th...ah, dang. Anyway, the long and short of it's this: classy joint in a seedy biz, no other way to put it. Drinks are expensive (it is a topless bar), but food's top-notch (lobster's always a winner, no kidding), the waitstaff's as kind as the Red Cross, and the ladies are superior to any other joint in town. Ask the men—ladies too, as every time we visit the joint's stocked with female customers for whom a trip to Northwest Dallas' finest might as well be a weekend in Vegas.

Buster Cooper can't stop dancing. Now in his mid-80s, the veteran tap master still teaches new generations of hoofers the intricacies of the art form he pioneered in Dallas more than 60 years ago. For half a century Cooper owned his own studio, and for 30 years he served as head of the dance department at Hockaday School. Patrick Swayze and Sandy Duncan are among his alumni and others have gone on to dance on Broadway in leading roles in A Chorus Line, 42nd Street and Cats. This summer the twinkly titan of tap took the stage in a special pre-show spectacular at the Dallas Summer Musicals' performance of The Drowsy Chaperone. His technique still is flawless, his crowd appeal greater than ever. Thanks, Buster, for giving your life to Dallas' dancers and never shuffling off to Buffalo.

Every Monday night "Mama" Amy Stevenson invites friends to sing on the tiny stage of this friendly Oak Lawn gay bar. She brings in new talent and some who've been around a while and just like to get up and sing. Opera singers, belters, budding Broadway divas—even a few comedians and jugglers—have shared the teensy stage at this weekly show. Among the regulars who stop in to perform are Cedric Neal, John Venable, Paul J. Williams, Ryan Roach and Gregory Lush. Want to get onstage? Just ask Stevenson. As the song from Chicago says, "When you're good to Mama...."

They often work at other theaters, but when they return to their roots on McKinney Avenue, Kitchen Dog Theater's Artistic Company members click into what makes this the hothouse for avant-garde dramas and comedies. Alongside co-artistic directors Christopher Carlos and Tina Parker (both of whom act and direct) are double- and triple-threat talents who write, design, act, direct, compose, choreograph and, when asked, sweep up after the audience clears out. Take your bows, Linda Blase, Rhonda Boutté, Vicki Caroline Cheatwood, Christina Dickson, Russell K. Dyer, Jeremy Escobar, John Flores, Jen Gilson-Gilliam, David Goodwin, Mark Griffin, Bill Lengfelder, Ian Leson, Laura McMeley, Allison Moore, Barry Nash, Joe Nemmers, Judy Niven, Sally Nystuen-Vahle, Karen Parrish, Heidi Shen, Leah Spillman, Ruth Stephenson, Jonathan Taylor, Lee Trull, Shelley Tharp-Payton, Christina Vela, Michael Wang, Bryan Wofford and Emily Young.

It's not just us. An informal poll of people close to the local television news biz confirms what we were going to say anyway: Channel 8 at 10 p.m.—well, pretty much Channel 8 all day long—towers above everything else in the market. They win on just about every score, especially the "deep bench" issues. Reporters Jim Douglas, Byron Harris, Gary Reaves, Brett Shipp, Brad Watson—they're the quality long-ball hitters who give WFAA its authority. But the newbies, Craig Civale, Chris Hawes and David Schechter, are examples of serious, effective journalists coming along fast. Station president and general manager Mike Devlin comes from the news side, which helps. We know this: Channel 8 has history in the market and with the market. People take it seriously. That's worth something when the product you're selling is the truth.

People of Deep Ellum, we want to believe in your cause. We all love live music, walkable neighborhoods, Blind Lemon Jefferson and independent businesses. We're always right there with you when you argue against West Village-style development and extol the merits of real culture. But then you start to go on and on about Edie Brickell and New Bohemians or Fever in the Funkhouse or some other band whose work has not aged particularly well and our eyes glaze over. And while we're on the subject, you might think about retiring the whole "Nirvana at Trees" story for a while too. Granted, it's a good one, but we've heard it so many times, it's starting to sound a lot like grandparents' nostalgia. Just sayin'.

La Casita's kind of a hole in the wall. You'd miss it if you didn't know where it was (a few doors south of The Cavern), and you'll never eat there unless you're nocturnal like the people who run this deliciously authentic Mexican dive are: The restaurant's hours are a little ridiculous, opening at 8 p.m. and closing at 5 a.m. But the place has been open for 24 years and, over the course of that existence, it has built up quite the loyal base of regular late-night eaters. Plus, it's the only place I know of where you can get a tall, cold glass of apple juice after the bars have closed. If, um, you catch my drift.

How do the gays always seem to be the first to know...everything? Like how to keep abreast of local festivities. And where to get new breasts. For those savvy souls who insist on keeping up with all the timely tea, Gay List Daily is pouring the brew. Delivered directly to your e-mail inbox, Gay List Daily, created by Dallas PR pro Cooper Smith, is dedicated to making the trendy gay individual even more trendy and gay. Readers aren't always gay, and the content won't always be fey, but the commentary is always fabulous. Mary, it's free!

When he's older, Andrew Phifer would like to play Elwood P. Dowd, the delusional lead in the old comedy chestnut Harvey. For now he's content being cast as callow youth, such as in recent co-starring roles at Uptown Players (Bent) and Theatre Three (House and Garden). He's good at playing teenage boys hopelessly in love with boys and/or girls. "It does a soul good" to dive deeply into emotional waves, says the lanky 24-year-old, who grew up in Jacksonville, Texas, and graduated from Austin College. A future in dramaturgy or arts administration is a possibility, says Phifer, but for now he's happy to bounce from theater to theater. Best advice he ever got? "You're always auditioning," he says. "Your professionalism, or lack thereof, on one show can create a reputation." His rep so far? Good guy, great young actor.

She's 27 and looks 17, something petite redhead Maxey Whitehead has used to great effect in performances at WaterTower, Theatre Three and Second Thought Theatre. The Addison native and graduate of Texas State University specializes in playing wayward kids, and no role was more troubled than Lissie, the runaway shacked up with her high school teacher in Steven Walters' gritty play Snake Eyes at the Mardi Gras Motel, performed at Second Thought. It was "just a blessing of a role," says Whitehead, who was absolutely riveting in the part. "I got to work with an incredible company of people, and I had never played a part like that before." Calling Dallas "a lovely place to work" as an actor, Whitehead hopes to move away from teenage roles and into ingénue parts. "I am an actor because I think the world today is starving for truth and bravery," Whitehead says. "I believe that's what people come to theater to see, and it is my goal every day to serve them with my nerve and imagination." That's worth applauding.

In 1958, with the new Kalita Humphreys Theater rising on the east bank of Turtle Creek, architect Frank Lloyd Wright made a prediction about his then-ultra-modern edifice: "One day this will mark the spot where Dallas once stood."

Audacious, perhaps, but an interesting observation about the often underappreciated significance of the performing arts in big-city history.

Half a century from now, Wright's poured-concrete marvel may be as dusty and forgotten as Margo Jones' once-revolutionary theater-in-the-round in Fair Park (still there, but seldom used since Jones' death in 1955). In 2009 the Dallas Theater Center company moves out of Kalita, where it has produced shows since 1959, and into the new $60 million Dee and Charles Wyly Theatre at the Dallas Center for Performing Arts downtown.

Dallas theater, it seems, always has reflected a tendency of status-seeking audiences and benefactors to equate great art with how impressive the building is around it, the shinier and newer the better.

By 2058, however, the Wyly, designed by international architecture star Rem Koolhaas, will be the same age as Wright's Kalitais now. And what arebeing touted now as the Wyly's whizbangtechnical gewgaws (computerized lighting!) and "cutting-edge" theatrical design features (hydraulic rows of seats!) could be as old-fashioned as gas footlights and trapdoors were when Wright planned Kalita Humphreys.

One thing's for certain, though: Whatever the year, whatever the venue, people will still gather to hear live actors and probably not wispy holograms speak lines from Medea, Hamlet, Our Town and A Christmas Carol. These are the "classics." Year after year, decade after decade, these plays never seem to go away (no matter how much some critics and theatergoers wish they would).

Live theater has lived on through the millennia with only the occasional blackout. In ancient Rome, the government shut down theaters, calling them centers of politically subversive thought. That ban lasted more than 1,700 years, well into the Christian era. The Renaissance stirred the arts back to life, and it's been the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd ever since.

Art can be a fragile thing. But even in the worst of modern times, American theater has flourished. After 9/11, large regional theaters such as Dallas Theater Center struggled to survive as corporate donations and individual ticket sales shrank. But actors need to act and playwrights didn't stop typing new plays. So in Dallas and around the country, new, small theater companies popped up, performing in community centers, public libraries, art galleries and other low-overhead acting spaces. In Dallas it's possible to see up to five new productions every week of the year, produced by more than 60 active theater companies on stages as large as the Music Hall at Fair Park and as tiny as the basement-level Theatre Too. From splashy Broadway musical road companies to tour de force one-man shows at the Festival of Independent Theatres, the range of talent currently treading local boards is impressive and encouraging.

That bodes well for the future of the arts here, say theater directors. "In 50 years, I'd love to have a theater community in Dallas not unlike Chicago's or Seattle's," says director René Moreno, who has staged shows at Contemporary Theatre, Theatre Three, Uptown Players and Dallas Theater Center. "I'd love for this to be a place where artists can come and put roots down and really grow and do great work. Maybe have several big Equity houses, not in competition with each other, but with different points of views and different goals. I would hope that by the time we get to 50 years from now, we have several organizations as big as Dallas Theater Center." (DTC is the second-largest League of Resident Theatres member company in Texas, behind Houston's Alley Theatre.)

Technological improvements aside—maybe someday someone will invent a microphone pack that doesn't short out on opening night—theater will always be about audiences sharing space with living, breathing actors.

"I hope it never stops being that," says director Cheryl Denson, who's worked in Dallas theater more than 30 years. "The excitement of theater has always been in human beings responding to each other without being manipulated by technology."

Moreno says he'd like to see theater production get simpler, less dependent on technology and special effects. "There's nothing like being in a theater with live actors onstage. It's a need people have in their community," he says. "Technology won't kill theater any more than movies killed theater. In the end what theater is about is storytelling. It goes back to people sitting around a campfire and someone telling a story that could perhaps change someone else's life. That's what it was, is and will always be." Elaine Liner

Enter the hotel that is ZaZa—a feast of oversized furniture, oversized rooms and oversized egos—walk halfway down a candle-lit, eclectically designed hallway, and there beside a towering plant sits Valentina Burton, also known as The Fortune-Teller of Dallas.

For the last four years each Wednesday through Saturday night, Burton has been the in-house soothsayer for the hotel, reading the tarot cards of touring rock stars, local sports celebs, members of the traveling business class, and those voguers, poseurs and $30,000 millionaires who make Dallas just so damn Dallas.

"There can be weird juxtapositions," Burton says. "You have people from Idaho rubbing up against Tommy Lee."

It's not altogether easy telling fortunes to the fortunate and the inebriated in the anything-goes atmosphere that the hotel encourages, but Burton fits in with the feel of the place. While at ZaZa, she eschews the gypsy encampment look and goes for a more stated Gothic elegance, a sort of "Elvira meets Cruella De Vil," she says. But she has learned that she cannot read solo in these zany environs, which is where David Bower, her "wrangler" and a palmist in his own right, comes in, hustling away those drunks, letches and interlopers who might otherwise destroy Burton's focus. "I've tried this without David, and it's like the Vietnam of reading," she says.

The air of mystery that surrounds Burton is undercut when she reveals that she is a 1979 graduate of Richardson High School—"the land of Jessica Simpson and TI," she says. She can't remember a time when she didn't read cards, but she first became an illusionist because she saw it as a more stable vocation.

"I didn't want to live in a funky little house with a neon hand in the window by the airport," she says.

But she veered into fortune-telling after receiving encouragement from those for whom she read.

Just how it all works doesn't appear to concern her. Burton just knows that after a "querent" shuffles the deck of tarot cards, cuts them into three stacks, picks the stack that feels "different" and asks her a question, the cards form patterns from which she says she can divine the future.

On this pleasant August eve, among the zeitgeist of ZaZa, she agrees to forecast the future of Dallas. Because so many questions she receives deal with affairs of the heart, the Dallas Observer's first question seeks to keep her in her comfort zone:

Will Jenny the Elephant ever know joy in Dallas?

Elephants are extremely social animals, and there is grief around her now. But out of grief comes celebration and a new relationship. There will be a new elephant joining her, and yes, she will know joy, the joy of a new friend. [A new elephant is coming to the Dallas Zoo; Burton could have read about it in the press, but claims to know nothing about current events.]

Which street, if any, will be named César Chávez?

It's a street with a lot of commercial activity...

Industrial Boulevard?

It's not the obvious choice...It's something different from what has been suggested. It's near a pretty park that is developed with private donations and public money for families...The road goes right along side it.

Seems kind of vague—the high-speed toll road in the Trinity River Project?

No, not a tollway.

Do you know the exact location?

That's all I am getting.

OK. Do you see a flood of biblicalproportions on the Trinity River?

Yes.

Yes? [so much for vague]

It creates havoc not just in the poorer neighborhoods, but there is expensive property where singles live. The flooding happens because things are not in balance. And there is a person who warned about it. He gets to be right.

Jim Schutze?

Possibly...It will happen within the next two to five years...but out of the ruin, things get done right.

You mean the Trinity River Project?

The flood may help that happen...It will become the festival center for the town—a wonderful green place of balance.

Will the convention center hotel happen, and if so, be profitable?

I see a big mess, a lot of drama around it. Getting there is ridiculous, but it needs a champion. There is one...And it will be profitable, but there has to be a lot of collaboration.

What will the economy in Dallas look like 20 years from now?

I love these questions—I usually get, "Is my baby's daddy going to pay child support?"—but yes, things are good. These are really fantastic cards, especially around real estate and new business...There is rapid growth around something—maybe gambling or casinos...But it may not serve the greater good.

Will global warming affect Dallas in the year 2030?

It will be hotter like Phoenix...It affects our agriculture, what is grown here...though nothing cataclysmic.

Who will be the next mayor of Dallas?

This is someone who is very down to earth...He wants everyone to be happy...may open his mouth a lot and insert his foot. He is a very idealistic person. I like this person very much.

Who will be the next president of the United States?

I did a layout on this yesterday, and the same cards came up. It's the one who follows his own heart...

And his name is...

Barack Obama.

And I suppose you think the Cowboys are going to win the Super Bowl too?

Even with an infusion of new talent, they are still stuck and won't win...They work hard but they don't know which direction to head. That could be a coaching problem.

Are you saying Wade Phillips is going to get fired?

I'm not saying anything. It's the cards that speak and tell the future.

Mark Donald

Ya know how women are from Venus? And how that means that, unlike men, we need more than visual stimulation when it comes to the bedroom? How we get off less on naughty images than our imaginations, and how we need more than just sex. We need foreplay and romance and flowers ...snnnnzzzzzzz. Sorry, fell asleep there for a minute! See, that shit is so 1992. You'll be glad to know the ladies these days are as debauched and exploitative as a night in Bangkok—we've finally claimed our inner perverts! Which brings us to Buddies II. The venerable Maple Avenue watering hole has always been a spot to find ladies who love ladies, but they've upped the ante. Entertainment there goes so far beyond the normal karaoke. Once a month or so, for instance, you can catch the "Barely Legal" stage show, featuring some of the hottest young thangs to ever titillate. There are also recurring shows featuring Dallas dynamite drag kings, the Dukes of Dallas, the most adorable young bois to never pack a penis. And there's the T'n'T event, which...well, you'll just have to see it yourself. And it's not really like Bangkok—it's all in good fun, in a safe and respectful environment. So, see ya, fellas—while you're busy buying those roses, we'll be buying a lap dance.

Based solely on aesthetics, Gezellig should be one of the best jazz bars in the state, let alone Dallas. Its undeniable cool interior with its dark wood floors and soft, colored lights makes for a perfect jazz setting. But is the venue hampered by its location among the booty bars of Lowest Greenville's meat market? Absolutely. Still, the club does its best to gloss over that fact—and succeeds in large part because of its weekly residency with Michael League and Friends. League is the bass player for the 2008 Dallas Observer Music Award Best Jazz Act-winning Snarky Puppy, and with him at the helm on Monday nights you know you're in for a laid-back time. Just make sure to stretch your fingers—for snapping, of course—ahead of time.

Hidden away behind a retirement home and the Hampton Illinois Branch library are 119 acres of barely tamed wilderness, home to a surprisingly diverse sampling of wildflowers, butterflies, birds and trees. Winding, looping and switching back through the preserve is a multiuse path for hikers and bikers alike. Maintained by volunteers, the park has exciting features including water crossings, ramps and bridges to keep riders on their toes. The preserve has about eight miles of trail, and Dallas Off-Road Bicyclist Association members led by Shadow Johns are creating more all the time. Be alert for hikers and riders coming your way, though, as there are tons of blind corners, thanks to all the trees.