Went to a friend's birthday party here recently, and we were sorely disappointed. Not because the service wasn't friendly and efficient, because it was. Not because the outside deck wasn't shaded and comfortable, because it was. And not because the people-watching wasn't entertaining, because it was. ("Hey there. What school you go to?") It was upsetting because the table kept ordering one type of beer. One does not travel to the Ginger Man for a one-flavor experience. This pub with wood décor and many taps behind the bar boasts 70-some brands of brew coursing from said spigots, as well as about a hunnerd different types of bottled beverages. Next time, we're going to be responsible Ginger Man-goers and order at least 13 types of beer on our way to an evening of overbelching and yelling, "Beer ye, beer ye!" from some dark corner of this lovely establishment. And, sure, designated driver, we'll call a cab, yada yada.

At 508 Park Ave., there is a building that (on June 19 and 20 in 1937) housed a recording session by legendary Delta bluesman Robert Johnson, one of just two occasions he ever had his music recorded in his abbreviated career. At the moment, the building is abandoned, though it was once home to the Brunswick Records' warehouse, as well as the office of Don Law, who produced Johnson and many others during his storied career. Directly across the street from the building is The Stew Pot, a church-run kitchen for the homeless, and the main reason 508 Park doesn't have a plaque or anything that commemorates Johnson's stay there. Check it out before the entire block is razed to make room for lofts or something like that, but make sure you empty your pockets first. If you think it's hard getting away from 7-Eleven with some spare change, just try doing that here.

Take it from someone who has shot 21-under on Buckhorn: This is the best place in town to Tee it up. (For those who don't know, Golden Tee is the No. 1 bar game in the country; it's that arcade golf game with the big round ball you see guys smashing as hard as their beer-addled brains will allow.) Granted, some sports bars have more GT machines, but Golden Tee isn't about high numbers. It's about lowest score, best environment and assorted other criteria we just made up. The three GT machines at Frankie's are separated from the bar and most of the diners who would rather nosh on the tasty fare provided (including a top-notch club sandwich and the biggest-ass baked potato you've ever seen) than listen to people yell about misjudged A-1 shots. As well, the Golden Tee dorks can congregate away from normal people when they imitate the game's announcers. ("Get up, get up, get up, get there!") Now, maybe Frankie's will help us market the Golden Tee bumper sticker we want to produce: "My son is Golfer 3, and he has honors!"

Great jukebox, even better shows, and if you want to talk to a local musician, just tap the guy next to you on the shoulder. OK, maybe it would be more accurate to call this the Best Roots Rock Bar, but let's not split hairs. Rock is rock is rock, and the Barley House has more than a quarry. Stop by on a Sunday night when Deathray Davies offshoot I Love Math is onstage and members of Slobberbone, Chomsky, the Old 97's, Slowride, Sorta, Sparrows and a dozen other bands are knocking back a few cold ones around the bar.

Not too long ago, we finally conquered our fear of singing in public (aided and abetted by our friends Jack D. and Jim B.), and we couldn't have picked a better place than XPO Lounge, easily the finest (and hippest) karaoke night in Dallas. The tunes are spun by DJ Mr. Rid (who's been involved in the local music scene longer than guitar strings) and sung by a who's-who of Dallas musicians and scenesters. Don't go if you're expecting to trot out your sub-American Idol impersonations of Mariah and Whitney, because a usual night revolves around Cheap Trick, KISS and so on. Do go if you want to buy us a drink, because we'd be much obliged. We need all the liquid courage we can get.

Those who know only of yoga from watching Gomez stand on his head during reruns of The Addams Family can learn the art of the downward-facing dog and the proud warrior five days a week in the quiet, comfortable community room upstairs at Cosmic Café. The classes are taught by instructors who practice or teach at other locations and who offer a variety of different styles in an anxiety-free setting. It's a mix of regulars and newcomers, so that those new to the poses can learn without intimidation. The classes are free, which means you don't have to shell out $100 a month before you know whether you want to learn to bend like a pretzel. Donations are accepted, though. Call for class days and times.

Sadly, Dallas doesn't have many blues clubs these days, and most of the ones it does have traffic in the same kind of "blues" that made Steve Buscemi get queasy in Ghost World. Not R.L. Griffin's Blues Palace #2, owned and operated by The Right Reverend of Dallas Blues, R.L. Griffin. (Just in case you thought it was nothing more than a clever name.) If you've got the stones to stop thinking about what's happening to your late-model sedan out in the parking lot for an hour or three, it's well worth a trip, especially on Friday and Saturday, when you'll get a chance to witness Griffin's Show and Revue with Hal Harris and the Lo Lifers, the joint's house band. Testify!

Still can't beat this Deep Ellum institution, and not many people try. Yeah, there's the Elbow Room or Red Blood Club, at least whenever one of the groups in the Dallas Creative Music Alliance is onstage. But Sambuca doesn't just get this by default: They deserve it, doing everything a good jazz club should and then some. The sound is top-notch and so is the talent, and they even have the courage to challenge their clientele, booking acts such as a combo featuring drummer Earl Harvin, guitarist Bill Longhorse and laptop jockey Wanz Dover. That might not be Ken Burns' idea of jazz, but you can bet Miles Davis would be proud. And so are we.

Thinking about slipping out of the office early to get in a quick 18 holes before dark? There's no better place than this historic old course that has been in business since 1924. Located in the picturesque Kessler Park area, just two miles from downtown Dallas, the short (6,005 yards from the blue tees) but demanding layout is ideal for the golfer who likes a challenge but also hopes to score well. The narrow fairways are lined with native oaks, there's not a lot of water to worry about and there are 11 par 4s and four par 3s. And everyone goes home talking about the two-tiered 18th green. Open daily except for Christmas, weekday and weekend fees (including a cart) are less than $30. And juniors (18 and under) can play for about five bucks, or the cost of one bet you lost because you three-putted.

Like an eclipse, you will see this rarely, but we have seen it, and it is a strange, wondrous site. It would be indecorous of us to mention the young woman's name, but let's just say when we first saw this phenomenon occur, we were misty-eyed. We walked into this bar near closing time on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, and we were taken aback by how jam-packed with collegiate drunkards this place was. (Note to selves: We are too old to go college-bar hopping...very often.) It was wall-to-wall hipsters and frat rats. But just when we were about to leave, because we were afraid it would be too difficult to quaff a beverage in peace, the sea of tight bellies parted and toward us came the bartendress, not only doing a handstand but walking on said hands, in her trademark belly shirt. Then, like Spider-Man's younger, hotter sister, she sprang to her feet and let out a wild-eyed "Woooo!" Needless to say, we stayed. You should, too. Never know when it will happen again.