There's an undeniable appeal to the idea: Skip work, head to a bar and watch the day sip away into a pleasant haze while others toil away in cubeland. For this purpose, nothing beats Sevy's Grill. It's a bright, upbeat space with a steady flow of daytime regulars--including fellow slackers. Daytime bartender James Pintello keeps the conversation flowing and stirs up some impressive sipping drinks. Psychologists and HR professionals give lip service to the value of a little downtime, but they're generally referring to time- and money-consuming vacations. Before a trip, harried business professionals spend hours clearing projects off their desks. Upon their return, these same harried professionals catch up on hundreds of e-mails and calls and other issues. It may be that a "doctor's appointment" spent at Sevy's is all the downtime a person really needs.

Don't go there to see it. Just open your eyes and turn your head half a nod next time you pass, usually on your way to or from the City Hall area on Young Street, just across from First Presbyterian Church of Dallas: In freezing cold or baking heat, the downtown derelict population camps out on the 500 block of Dallas' ironically named Park Avenue, a dirty valley of brick and broken glass near a popular soup kitchen. They throw down cots and sleeping bags (or just their own bruised, grimy bodies) on the sidewalk, sleeping it off in an ether of booze and piss. Write your own moral.

Maybe that sounds like a give-up to you, the ultimate no-shit statement. (Or perhaps you would have preferred our initial answer: anywhere that leads out of Dallas.) So let us explain. We have a 1-year-old kid who didn't sleep the first, oh, 11 months of his existence, and when he did sleep it was only in his car seat, which meant plenty of days and nights spent rolling through this town looking for something to entertain our eyeballs to keep them open. No matter where we were, we always ended up circling the lake. Always. Didn't matter what time of day or night. And it wasn't just round and round and round till he woke up; that would have gotten old. No, we cruised up the side streets and down the roads to nowhere, through the Lakewood neighborhoods dotted with historic homes and fields that led to horse stables and every other nook and cranny we could find. Spend enough time over there and Dallas starts to look a whole lot prettier, because it looks like another city--one with a view. Even now, when the kiddo's wide awake, the family cruiser will find its way over to Forest Hills or Casa Linda Estates or Lake Highlands just to see what's happening in a neighborhood so much prettier than ours and yours, unless you're lucky enough to live in a Dallas with scenery.

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Hattie's American Bistro has become a citywide hot spot, drawing people into Oak Cliff who have never been farther south than Armstrong in their lives, along with an adventurous crowd of veteran cosmopolites and metrosexuals. Eventually they all pour out onto Bishop Street for cigars and shrieking, wandering off down the block to explore Ifs Ands & Butts Sodapop and Tobacco Store, or the Oak Cliff Mercantile, a cool antiques and salvage place that stays open late, or whatever. Every night a few discover again that the cleverly named Venetian Blinds is actually an old place that sells Venetian blinds. All in all, it's a quiet, amiable, sophisticated corner of the city.

Frozen drinks generally suffer from two problems: Heavy ice content waters down the alcohol, and men holding one start to question their own sexuality. No problem. Ciudad is an Oak Lawn establishment, and Republic sits in Uptown, where straight men commonly disguise themselves as characters from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Republic offers some astonishing drinks. They use fresh fruit in their purees and mix in premium spirits--Vox Raspberry in the frozen raspberry version and Smirnoff Orange Twist in the mango limeade drink. They also do a unique frozen mojito. For a guy sending drinks to a woman, they're perfect: sweet, but hiding a subtle little punch. If a man settles down with a magenta, pale orange or dull lime-colored slurpee...ah, hell. It's Uptown, and you never know. Ciudad, meanwhile, sells a unique thing called a Pom Pom, consisting of pomegranate and pineapple laced with a hefty dose of tequila. The pineapple adds a touch of sweetness to the more exotic base flavor, and the tequila, oh, the tequila. A few of these will really f...um, mess you up.

Sometimes a restlessness plagues the mind, while the body is content to do absolutely nothing but sit, listen to music, maybe eat, definitely drink. Yeah, and smoking's on the list of vices, too. After the eyes adjust to the dim lights of the Landing, it becomes apparent that being there is like being at home, but better. Come in post-softball or in Prada and feel comfortable in the cushy booths nestled under beer lights. It doesn't matter that there's laundry to be done or mail to be opened. Once inside the Landing, the spell has been cast and all anyone can do is relax, have a drink and enjoy the Etta James, George Jones and Iggy Pop on the juke. See, at home, one might be distracted by productivity and sacrifice some important lounging. At Lakewood Landing, Lucille still calls to us from the frames on the wall, urging us to de-stress and unwind.

How does Escapade 2001, a club that's only open Friday and Saturday, regularly ring up the most liquor sales in Dallas County? Because this hangar-sized hangout happens to bring in most of the local Latino population every weekend, turning our East Dallas neighborhood into a ghost town. How does Escapade 2001 manage that? Because they know how to cater to the folks who've moved up from Mexico, playing the ranchera and cumbia music that makes boots scoot south of the border. It's a devastatingly simple formula.

OK, we promised a few months ago we'd address this, and now it's time. Anywhere you go these days, you see young straight girls getting their drink on, then grinding each other on the dance floor. On its surface, this seems like a fantastic thing. OK, it is a fantastic thing. It's the good by-product of our society becoming Porn Nation, U.S.A. Casual and accepted bisexuality among women who leave the bar with men. The only problem is, it may be too widespread. One example: When we were at The Green Elephant earlier this year, we saw a dozen or more SMU girls doing this to each other. Turns out they were all straight, and all said they like to put on a show for the guys. But be careful, ladies. If you do it too much, it loses its danger, its sense of daring, its coolness. Of course, it's still hot. Don't get us wrong.

Most Mondays are a useless blur of team meetings and breakout meetings, with the occasional impromptu meeting to break up the monotony. No one gets any work done. So why not sit there with a churning stomach, a pounding head and the nauseating stench of stale smoke? Besides, you have other things to worry about, such as the name of the person you left asleep back at your apartment or the location of your car. "Naked Sunday" at Nikita forces the dying hours of the weekend to cling for a few more breaths. At 10 p.m. they dim the lights and crank the volume. Crowds pour in, vodka sloshes, soft-core porn appears on two flat-screen monitors and, for a moment, Saturday night returns. Patrons know that Monday lurks at 2 a.m., so they beat it back with the only weapon they have: massive doses of alcohol. Do Naked Sunday right and you won't think about the workweek until after you figure out where you are when the alarm rings Monday morning.

Late, late, late, 11 p.m. or later, load up your friends, your family if you have one, definitely the kids, and take them all to Ciro's on Midway Road just south of Belt Line. You'll join large gatherings of Middle Eastern families, many with kids, who have come to enjoy wonderfully fresh hummus, baba ghanouj, chickpea and olive mezze and falafel sauce, live music and some of the best belly dancing this side of Cairo. Between performances by professional dancers, many families get up and dance with each other. It's easy: Lift both arms over your head, snap your fingers and make big circles with your navel. Who knows? Someone may show up the next day at your parents' house and ask for your hand in marriage. Worth a try.