It's not every weekend you can paint your self gold and do "The Swim" on a go-go girl platform. But it is every eighth weekend. The Lollipop Shoppe is an every-other-month themed party usually held at the Avenue Arts Venue in Expo Park. Music (provided by resident DJs Panda Flower and Tiger Bee, guest DJs and live bands) and decorations are tailored to fit the motif, which has included Space Out, Beach Party or Spy Night. Costumes are encouraged; dancing is, too. And it's usually BYOB. That's six more excuses beyond Halloween to hit the thrift stores and costume shops. But you don't have to go all out to be part of the in crowd. Simply standing, watching and drinking is groovy, too.
Suenos Sabrosos means "sweet dreams" in English, and many of those can be found at this sweet and dreamy ice cream parlor in Oak Cliff's Bishop Arts District. Saturday nights you can find the Oak Cliff Circle of Poets reading and sometimes performing their works. They are cool about letting non-members read stuff, original or not, and may even offer membership. Who can beat a sonnet-and-scoop combo?
Maybe your friends or coworkers have set you up with somebody, or perhaps you're venturing into the world of online dating. Either way you have a potentially bad date. Arrange your meet-up at The Cavern's upstairs lounge; it has several factors that work for you. First, it's a bar. There's alcohol. Enough said. Second, it's less crowded upstairs, and seeing fewer people decreases the chances someone you know will see you. Also, The Cavern is named after the club where the Beatles played in Germany at the beginning of their career, and the upstairs room has some Beatles memorabilia. There's your first topic of conversation. Next, half of the upstairs is very, very dark and full of low, sink-right-in couches. If the date goes well, there's a comfy sofa in an almost pitch black space--don't worry, you won't be the first person to test just how dark it is.
So he doesn't stand by a flashy car, tell the cameras to roll and promise to win you a basketful of cold hard cash. When you're looking at a little jail time after chugging martinis and running afoul of a McKinney Avenue roadblock, you need a thorough professional. That's David Burrows, Phi Beta Kappa from SMU and graduate of Baylor Law. Last year alone he kicked ass in 31 trials. That's 31 DWI victories, more than many criminal lawyers tally in an entire career. How does he do it? Wish we could say he keeps photos in some safety deposit box of local judges getting jiggy at a petting zoo. Nope, he's just adept at jury selection and in-depth research, especially the jury selection part--he even teaches other lawyers the delicate art. Not easy, after all, to find that one person who believes that maybe, just maybe, road hazards and an improperly placed tree caused the mishap in question.
Does Fair Park ever cross your mind outside of car shows, Ferris wheels and all things fried? The African American Museum should help change that, and a visit leaves a deeper impression of the area's history. The museum as a whole is architecturally phenomenal and the collections are impressive, but the Freedman's Cemetery exhibition is powerful. A big chunk of Dallas' past is recorded here, so give yourself the time to soak it all in. Funereal artifacts, historic documents and recorded audio provide an enlightening picture of the thriving black community and its struggles against racism in Dallas. It's one thing to know a time like that existed in the city, but it's stunning to see the proof.
It just happens. We're sitting at Reikyu, in a seat that faces out onto Mockingbird Station, and we spy someone in an apartment with the blinds open, probably also enjoying the view. And before we know it, we're watching some guy pace around his stylishly minimal apartment while talking on a cordless phone. It's more addictive than TV at a bar. It's OK, we think. It's their fault for leaving their blinds open. We're not voyeurs; they're exhibitionists. But the truth is we love it, and so do you.
Every daily paper should employ a set of unyielding skeptics churning out columns that force readers to react--and to anticipate the next round. Too bad The Dallas Morning News runs so many tepid columns and soggy editorials. Only Mr. Dallas possesses the weaponry of a great columnist, and he's allowed only the occasional piece about nightlife. Few writers can lambast a bar or new fad in so few subtle, sharp and tightly crafted words as the bespectacled curmudgeon. Advising middle-aged men on the art of hooking up, he warns that "silence can be golden, but shoes never shut up." A few years ago he divided nightlife denizens into "scissor girls," "investment bikers," "torso boys," "Prada people" and so on. Mr. Dallas never becomes enamored with bars and babes and booze and all the stuff that most people find exciting about the night.
You like to be in the theater before the lights dim for the previews. Your companion doesn't mind missing the first few minutes of the movie. That leaves you waiting--hoping--for 10, 15, 20 minutes. Don't stand in the Angelika's lobby, tapping your foot and checking your watch every 30 seconds. Go next door to Trinity Hall; it's OK, you can see the theater from there. Have a beer, or maybe a whiskey is more suitable for calming your anxiety, and perhaps there's time for chips and curry or another Irish pub specialty. You'll like Trinity Hall so much you might not mind missing the movie's opening credits either.
We've always seen exercise as something done in hopes that eventually--one day far, far in the future--we might actually get hit on again. But, for some people, the payoff is much more immediate. It happens while they're exercising. That's right: Some people get hit on even when they're sweaty, pony-tailed, makeupless and Spandexed. On Saturday mornings at White Rock Lake, whether you're walking, running, pedaling, rolling or just walking the dog, you're a moving target in the city's biggest singles scene.
The High Five entanglement provides enough roller-coaster thrills to challenge Six Flags. Test your acrophobia on the connector from LBJ westbound to Central southbound; there's a cheap thrill to looking down as you become airborne. Just keep an eye on the road: The last thing anyone wants, especially the traffic behind you, is to be stuck in a fender-bender in the sky.

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