This one is as easy as it gets, since it appeals to the smallest subgroup out there: gays and lesbians who read comic books. Not too many people cater to that particular market. But Richard and the rest of the crew at Zeus not only do just that, they do it in style, with regular get-togethers at neighboring Mexican restaurant Ciudad for rainbow-flag readers. Both places work fine on their own (Zeus is one of the best comics shops in town, especially for people just getting into reading them; Ciudad's food is flip-out fantastic), but they're even better together.

We're scared of many things, such as mosquitoes (West Nile!), snakes (poison!) and monkeys (the Marburg monkey virus, which for some reason we fear more than its well-known sister virus, Ebola!). We're also queasy about the sun and its link to skin cancer, which is why we are pasty and have no luck with the ladies. That's why we plan to visit Planet Tan and do what our good friend did: get misted. For the person who needs to be caramelized, Planet Tan can apply the UV-free Mist-On Tan product. It gives you a sweet golden-brown tone for up to a week, which is all the time we need to find a soul mate. The procedure is complete in less time than it takes to disrobe, so if you've got a big event coming up, or if you just need to even out your own tan, stop by a day or two before you need to wear that revealing outfit and do what we light-fearing folk do: Buy yourself some good looks.

We heard about one mom who was so desperate to cut her 2-year-old's hair that she took the scissors to him while he was asleep. Given that she wasn't a trained professional, and it was dark, and half the kid's hair was under his head pressed against the mattress, the result wasn't so great. We're not sure what happened after that, but someone saw a woman with a hair-impaired toddler buying knit caps at Baby Gap. Too bad she hadn't heard of Kids Kutz, started by two single moms who knew a thing or two about desperation themselves. Jackie Ricks, a licensed cosmetologist, and Martha Rehfeldt, a licensed barber/stylist, found themselves out of work in 1998 when Dallas' Little Things went out of business and their children's hair gig there was gone forever. Necessity being the mother of invention, Ricks and Rehfeldt opened their own place. Even if your kiddo isn't afraid of the haircut experience, there is still the "wriggle" factor to consider. Ricks and Rehfeldt put their moms' ingenuity to work with their scissors skills, providing elephant and tiger chairs for their small clients, and movies. "We instinctively feel the kids out," Rehfeldt says, "and decide how best to approach each one. We see the brave and boisterous, and the shy and scared. We've never had a bad experience yet." Word-of-mouth gets Kids Kutz most of its clients, and even some of PBS' Barney kids get coiffed there. Rehfeldt says the trend among 6- to 10-year-olds is the Harry Potter cut for boys, and the Olsen twins for girls. Kids Kutz has a regular chair for harried moms and dads who make the trip to Euless for the kids but need a quick trim while they're there.

You won't find batteries, phone cards and store-brand toothbrushes lining the counters of Restoration Hardware. The stuff you will find isn't that necessary, but it is cuter and much more expensive. Around the cash registers are tubs and hangers full of gadgets, widgets and other unneeded items you'll decide to take home while waiting to check out, such as magnets made from milk jar lids and old dice and key-chain magnifying glasses and compasses.

We know you think of it as a women's shoe store, but hear us out. We recently held a garage sale. One couple made $300-plus. We saw this couple the next day. We asked them what they were going to do with their money. "We've already been to DSW Show Warehouse!" they exclaimed. Now, women who know their designer labels and who frequent this foot haven already know how great the place is, but they have super deals for men, too. Sure, you can go get your Kenneth Coles at department-store prices, but DSW is legendary for its top-name brands at below-reasonable prices. If you've got some found money, or even if you've got some cash you should spend on the water bill, consider making the trip to Lewisville. You'll go head over heels.

The grocer carries all sorts of imported fresh and canned goods suited to the discerning cook of all sorts of Middle Eastern fare. That's right, all sorta good stuff for all sorta people. Which, admit it, is shocking. Not only is the bread the freshest, softest, tastiest Middle Eastern breadlike stuff you're likely to find (chain grocery store pita pocket bread need not apply), but the loaves are full size, just like they are in Lebanon. The store sells ingredients for old standards like hummus and rare spices suited to more exotic Middle Eastern dishes, Middle Eastern candy, chewing gum and even really good pickles imported from Lebanon. We would take the time to learn the names of these items, but we're too busy scarfing.

Say you and your pals have decided to go out for a night on the town. Say you've decided to drink responsibly and have opted to utilize one of the city's cab services. Then say that particular cab company proceeds to stand you up--twice. What do you do? Well, first you delete the company's number from your cell's phone book, then you check out Revolution Bike Taxi, a free-of-charge service offered in areas such as Deep Ellum, the West End and Lower Greenville. You'll get a free ride (tipping, of course, is encouraged) to the next watering hole, and you'll see parts of the city you never knew existed. Consisting, basically, of a bicycle with a cart attached to the back, Revolution taxis take the roads less traveled, the back alleys and the routes you couldn't find again if you tried. They're quick, economical and environmentally friendly, and their hospitable drivers help put the "joy" in joyride. (We love you, Bryan K.! And thanks for not splashing us in that puddle...)

This store in the Lakewood shopping area has everything one needs to get vintage looks for a multitude of eras. There are plates like June Cleaver would have used to serve fresh-baked cookies to Wally and the Beav, lace-up go-go boots like Laverne and Shirley might have tried and sofas like Richie Cunningham and the gang would have sat on while getting chick advice from The Fonz. Then there's the actual TV memorabilia such as metal lunch boxes bearing the cartoon or photograph likenesses of small-screen stars and items such as models of The Monkees' souped-up convertible. In addition, glass cases hold smaller and more valuable items such as Beatlemania buttons and mint-condition toys. Then there's the stuff TV never showed: vintage "adult" novelties.

Men shop for shoes the opposite of women: the most shoes possible from the fewest possible stores. To get it all done in one stop go straight to Nordstrom at the Galleria. The sandal selection alone is daunting--including Mephisto and Ecco--but the Oxfords go on forever: Nordstrom's store brand, Tommy Bahama, Kenneth Cole Reaction, Cole Haan, Allen-Edmonds and many more. This is it, this is everything.

We'll admit we went overboard when furnishing our kid's nursery, especially considering he won't be using it for, oh, the next six months to a year and won't even be able to see it clearly for the next little while. But, let's admit it, we deck out babies' rooms not for the post-fetal, but for the parents, who like to spend time in the prettiest, coziest room in the house. So, yeah, we could have gone to Babies "R" Us and got us one of them functional cribs and economical changing tables, but nothing was too good for our boy--and for his parents, who were tired of looking at that spare room and figured what the hell. We drove to Plano, damn near to Frisco, because we heard Be-Dazzled has a lovely assortment of furniture (we wanted a Bratt décor crib, and this is among the few stores in the area to carry them) and a great selection of fabrics from which we could design everything from blankets to bumpers to rocking chairs; our handiwork's now on display in the Louvre, by which we mean our house.