This town's greatest sideshow of late-night humanity is situated at the swirling nexus in Serious Pizza and the area between the shop and its two next-door neighbors: July Alley (bar) and Elm Street Tattoo (inkery). Deep Ellum's rock 'n' roll finery is all on display, as hungry, sweaty, drunk, music-buzzed people wait patiently in line to put ludicrously large slices of pie in their faces. The tattoos, the piercings, the ill-advised leather trousers, the incredible awkwardness of standing 6 inches from a be-mohawked couple fighting furiously over toppings! It's a glorious scene, and it's available every weekend and a fair number of weeknights too. Watch too for the ever-present row of dudes looking on enviously as the pizza guys twirl and toss dough high above them. "Does that get chicks?" one sodden young patron asked us earnestly not long ago. We told him the obvious answer and turned back to the show.

"Fuck with me and you will have a huge asshole," Sweeney memorably promised his opposing council, a guy named Chad Arnette from Kelley, Hart & Hallman. It was an email conversation about scheduling conflicts that somehow went completely, wonderfully off the rails, landing on legal blog Above the Law as well as our own Unfair Park. The two sides couldn't agree on a date for a deposition, you see, leading Sweeney to eventually let Arnette know that he felt the other lawyer to be a "pansy," an "ignorant slut" and a "gutless attorney." There was also something in there about Sweeney shoving his boot so far up Arnette's ass "he'll be talkin' out of it." Arnette's firm promptly filed a complaint with the court, and Sweeney seems to have been sacked from Cozen O'Connor soon after. Worth it, we say.

Scott Griggs was elected last summer, ousting the wildly unpopular, frequently absent Dave Neumann. Honestly, they probably could have run a reasonably charming sock monkey against him and still shown Neumann the door. But Griggs has quickly joined fellow council members Angela Hunt and Sandy Greyson in what we can only term the Axis of Making Sense. He's fought against gas drilling within city limits, almost single-handedly pushed for better regulation and higher standards in the city's boarding homes and questioned the fuzzy math that's led other city officials (including Mayor Mike Rawlings) to advocate for a toll road in a floodplain. He has a bizarre tendency to show up at council meetings giving off the distinct impression that he's done the reading and knows something about the issues he's supposed to decide. Despite this dangerous eccentricity, we're still grateful to have Griggs sitting at the horseshoe.

Only three miles from downtown but a world unto itself, the North Wynnewood neighborhood in Oak Cliff is proof the 1950s weren't just about insanely grinning pipe-smoking dad figures in beltless trousers next to coral-green cars with cartoon tail fins. North Wynnewood is the best of '50s cool architecture, beautifully maintained for decades by families who never moved, occupied now by a crowd that's younger and more diverse but just as loyal to the neighborhood. Wynnewood sits on 150 acres of gently sloping hills loosely bounded by Interstate 35 South, 12th Street, Vernon Avenue and Illinois Avenue. Low-slung mid-century modern houses were built to standards we can only dream of today, several designed by the architects DeWitt & Swank. Many still look new. The houses, one to one-and-a-half-story brick in the 2,000- to 3,500-square-foot range, occupy large lush lots on artfully meandering streets, with huge backyards, many of them still dominated by those brick and stone '50s barbecue pits the size of small chapels. Crime is low for Oak Cliff. Values are up almost 60 percent in the last 10 years. An active neighborhood group guards against trouble and thinks up easygoing social activities. North Wynnewood manages to be both deeply staid and really interesting without going quite David Lynch — a rare trick in a rare jewel of a neighborhood.

For more than five years, City Council member and former Mayor Dwaine Caraway has been the city's loudest voice against the unchecked menace of dudes who don't belt their pants at the waist. In mid-June, to our inexpressible joy, Caraway announced that he's relaunching his anti-sagging crusade. It's about deference for ladies, he told a packed house at a press conference in City Hall. It's about self-respect. And now, suddenly, it's about health. "Underwear is meant to protect your inner self from your exterior clothing," he boomed confidently. He cited one of the great dangers of saggers who ride DART. "The germs immediately exposed from the body are waiting on the next passenger." Sadly, a planned "Saggin' Summit" was canceled in late June. Caraway said he'd received such an overwhelming positive response, more time was needed to accommodate everyone who wished to participate.

Thanks-Giving Square is a little enigma in the heart of downtown, a tiny, roughly triangular slab of land given over to a sort of park. There are murals there, and a fountain, and best of all a gorgeous, spiral-shaped chapel, featuring a stunning ceiling inlaid with stained-glass. It opened in 1973, with its stated mission is "to offer a place for all people to give thanks to our Creator." It has hosted any number of interfaith events over the years, emphasizing the way gratitude can unite us across religions and cultures. But you don't have to care about any of that to enjoy it. Just sit near the cascading rock fountain and listen to the water rushing gently downhill or stand in the center of the chapel and look up. In a downtown that often lacks beauty, Thanks-Giving Square is a moment of pure poetry.

Two years ago, local skateboarders got a 20,000-square-foot gift: a free, well-lit, professionally designed skate park, one with the very first cradle in Texas. It came courtesy of the city of Irving and SITE Design Group, a company that makes "action sports" parks all over the world. Lively Pointe has since become a center for skateboarders and BMXers of all ages, with all the curbs, verts, hubbas and ledges their grinding, kick-flipping little hearts could possibly desire. Don't worry, parents: As it's a city facility, skaters and riders must always wear pads and helmets. Sweet, dude.

This 35-acre village in Waxahachie makes for the perfect escape from modern society. The Scarborough Renaissance Festival started in 1981 and portrays the year 1533 during the reign of England's King Henry VIII. Festival goers delve into a world of make-believe, encouraged to dress the part of a Renaissance warlock or beer wench and meander through the village where they can engage in everything from jousting matches to "wildly inappropriate poetry," all the while chugging a beer and gnawing on a giant turkey leg.

Why play tennis at Lake Cliff? Because as you approach the courts you pass County Commissioner John Wiley Price's house and that ridiculous Suburban with his grinning face plastered on the side. Because, aside from the spirited pickup game thumping up and down the adjacent basketball courts, it's usually empty. Because if anyone ever is out there, they suck just as hard as we do. Because there are huge, veiny penises spray-painted crudely on the court. Because the net is actually made of chain-link fencing so nobody will steal it. Because very young, unattended urchins ask you if they can borrow your racket, and you basically tell them to piss off. Tennis anyone?

Gone are the days when musician kids sweat it for days leading up to a recital. Recitals are boring anyway. Zounds Sounds founder Marc Solomon knows this well, so he did away with them. At Zounds Sounds, a school of rock for kids, Solomon puts the students up on a real club stage, where actual touring acts perform, and invites them to go crazy. Actually, it's quite a bit more organized than that sounds. Solomon has enlisted the help of Dallas' top musicians who use proper curricula to teach the kids their instruments. The teachers use kids' budding musical preferences to steer them, and eventually they emerge as rock stars.