The career of one of Dallas' favorite news anchors took an ignominious turn last May, when she was arrested for DWI and summarily canned from NBC 5. She made a heartfelt apology and lived on in her always hilarious, borderline-racy Twitter presence. Then, as we suspected she would, she soon made it back on air, this time as part of WFAA's Good Morning Texas, doing a segment called "Starting Over," an occasionally tear-duct stimulating series on people who have to change directions in life because of unforeseen circumstances. She's still delightfully deranged on Twitter. Keep your head up, Jane.

So you're cool with gay Scouts now, Irving-based BSA? But when they turn 18, you boot them out, because gay Scout leaders are somehow beyond the pale? Man, you're so close to not being terrible. Good effort, though. Well, mediocre, actually. Better luck next year.

Oh, you thought City Manager Mary Suhm didn't actually run the city? And that City Council members read the stacks of paper put in front of them before voting on things? Bless your heart. The debate over gas drilling on city-owned property pretty much cleared up any lingering delusions about Suhm's place in city government. She secretly signed an agreement in 2007 with a gas drilling company, pledging to help change city policy in order to allow drilling on parkland. Then she (or her staff) snuck a lease into the mix that was not one of the ones the council approved. Suhm blamed the whole thing on a big misunderstanding, and the vast majority of the council quickly made clear that they were totally uninterested in investigating. Instead, the council just declined to let the driller sink its wells on parkland. So things kind of worked, in an ugly, infuriating way.

Duncanville teen Bliss and his 16 miles of glorious silken hair were captured on cell-phone video giving his teacher a scathing lecture about the mountains of boring packets she apparently liked to foist on her students. Whether you thought he was an insightful educational freedom fighter or an entitled little shit, it started an actual conversation about what the nation's schools look like, and how they could better serve our kids. (Apparently Duncanville ISD thought he might have a point too, because his teacher was quickly placed on leave.)

Dahlander quietly tolerated the reign of communications director Jennifer Sprague, a person several decades his junior who came in to be his boss for approximately 25 poorly handled seconds before vanishing into the world of "consulting." Then his boss was former TV newsperson Rebecca Rodriguez, who also managed to stick around for three months before splitting with a severance package for four months pay. No. Really. The organization's public face — besides controversial Superintendent Mike Miles — is really Dahlander, who's good-humored, intelligent and generally maintains a remarkably low level of bullshit, considering that he's in the bullshit-slinging biz. As DISD deals with a seemingly unstoppable string of scandals and fuck-ups, he's pretty much always a busy man. While (rightfully) bitching about the failings of our school system, take time to feel a little sympathy for one of Dallas' most gentlemanly flacks.

There was something painfully hilarious about DPD's official Twitter presence accidentally trumpeting a Fruit Ninja high score. Even better was the long-delayed explanation for it, which, when it finally appeared, showed some surprising sly humor: "After a thorough investigation (CSI: Fruit Ninja!), the source of this tweet was traced to a 5-year-old boy, who after hours of interrogation signed a written statement admitting his role in Fruitgate. The DPD Media Relations Staff would like to assure the public that no taxpayer dollars were used, nor was it the culprit's highest score ever. We do appreciate the retweets and responses we have received. We have learned a sobering lesson from this experience — security threats are not confined to the hacker world."

The folks who demonstrated against the Bush Library had great costumes and everything, but GetEQUAL's been tireless this year: pushing DART to pass domestic partner benefits, calling on Mayor Mike Rawlings to pay attention to the LGBT community even when there's not an election on and, in Austin, getting arrested for staging a sit-in to draw attention to a bill that would have added sexuality as a protected category to state non-discrimination laws. Sadly, they'll likely be fighting that good fight for a long time to come.

Aghast at a string of brutal domestic killings in Dallas, Mayor Mike Rawlings put together a rally last spring aimed at the hearts and minds of men who beat up their wives and girlfriends. While social scientists, theologians and moral philosophers may debate the best way to reach those guys, Rawlings adopted a message which might best be summarized as "You suck!" At that rally and in a number of appearances since, he has hammered at the theme that a man who hits a woman can be called a lot of things, but not a man. Often Rawlings has been joined by jocks and other manly men helping him get the message across. It can't hurt. Men who hit women do suck. At least it's good for them to know they suck.

This was a tough one, extremely competitive, because inner-city Dallas has what may be some of the very best potholes in America when measured for depth, circumference and volume capacity. The other big factor is surprise, and the only fair way to measure that one is on rainy days when you have no way of knowing whether the pothole ahead of you is going to be a mere splish-splash or a true tongue-biting axle-buster. But as Henderson Avenue has developed into an increasingly popular dining and clubbing venue, the city clearly has gone out of its way to make the potholes there deeper, more jagged and sneakier than anywhere else in town. Only modesty keeps us from claiming they are the best in America.

We can talk about the decor or the food or the music or the quirky theme nights, but that's just not owning up to the main reason most patrons go to strip clubs: to look at gorgeous exposed flesh. And that's what makes Baby Dolls shine. There are so many strippers. It has a staggering number of stages, which means at any given moment there are at least a half dozen topless or soon-to-be-topless ladies dancing, and countless more working the crowd, making friendly conversation or hustling lap dances or both at the same time. Of course, with numbers comes variety. Craving, say, a mid-20s mixed-race lady with long hair who does her main-stage routine to country music, or a tall, thin, blonde, tatted-up late-30s glam-rocking MILF with huge man-made knockers? OK, that second might not be that uncommon, but you get our drift: There'll be plenty of females with whom you can chat or upon whom you can cast your objectifying gaze. Oh, and the cover's never more than a couple or three bucks.