John Dufresne isn't really a Florida writer, even though he lives in Dania Beach and teaches at Florida International University. But Dufresne doesn't trade in detective novels suffused with only-in-South Florida weirdness like most of our local scribes. There are no hurricane-liberated rabid monkeys or drawbridge-jumping manatee lovers populating his stories. Dufresne's forte is something more enigmatic, more universal, more difficult, like true, monogamous love and whether it can truly exist. Or the substitution of everyday life and its frustrations with fictional representations or past-life remembrances. In his most recent novel, Love Warps the Mind a Little, Dufresne delightfully chronicles the hapless, bitter life of unsuccessful writer Lafayette Proulx. Laf's comrades in misery include his perpetually crying, soon-to-be-ex-wife, his cancer-ravaged psychiatrist mistress, and his Jeopardy!-obsessed coworker at Our Lady of the Sea fast-food fish joint. It's a funny, beguiling, and thoughtful contemplation of love, death, failure, and, well, life. And there's a bit of South Florida weirdness thrown in: The rest of Laf's family has relocated from Massachusetts to La Florida, where his brother worships Jesus and professional wrestling equally and his parents own a Canuck-catering hotel in Dania Beach.

What festival would be complete without plenty of head-sucking? We're talking about crawfish, of course, and the annual Cajun/ Zydeco Crawfish Festival comes with 35,000 pounds of the gnarly little crustaceans alive and kicking. Then throw in red beans and rice, crawfish bisque, étouffée, alligator, and muffulettas, all of it spicy. And there's enough gumbo at the festival to fill an Olympic-size swimming pool, too. When you're not busy spiking your tongue with the hot eats, you can get up and dance to the accordion-squeezing, foot-stomping zydeco music playing on stages complete with wooden dance floors. Bands like BeauSoleil, the Savoy Cajun Band, the VooDudes, the Déjà Vu Cajun Dance Band, and the Gumbo Junkyard kept the stadium rockin' in 1999, and if that wasn't enough to loosen you up, the fest offers red hurricanes and other assorted spirits being poured at a harrowing clip. For all you family stiffs, the place is tailor-made for kids, too, with children's activities, storytelling, and Cajun history lessons. Of course, it doesn't come cheap: Tickets cost $12 (will be $14 this year) at the gate (children age 12 and under free), and you have to pay for the food and beverages. Then again, the good things in life are rarely free.

What festival would be complete without plenty of head-sucking? We're talking about crawfish, of course, and the annual Cajun/ Zydeco Crawfish Festival comes with 35,000 pounds of the gnarly little crustaceans alive and kicking. Then throw in red beans and rice, crawfish bisque, étouffée, alligator, and muffulettas, all of it spicy. And there's enough gumbo at the festival to fill an Olympic-size swimming pool, too. When you're not busy spiking your tongue with the hot eats, you can get up and dance to the accordion-squeezing, foot-stomping zydeco music playing on stages complete with wooden dance floors. Bands like BeauSoleil, the Savoy Cajun Band, the VooDudes, the Déjà Vu Cajun Dance Band, and the Gumbo Junkyard kept the stadium rockin' in 1999, and if that wasn't enough to loosen you up, the fest offers red hurricanes and other assorted spirits being poured at a harrowing clip. For all you family stiffs, the place is tailor-made for kids, too, with children's activities, storytelling, and Cajun history lessons. Of course, it doesn't come cheap: Tickets cost $12 (will be $14 this year) at the gate (children age 12 and under free), and you have to pay for the food and beverages. Then again, the good things in life are rarely free.

At first glance Morey's Lounge looks like your average hillbilly hangout. No flashing neon lights announce "Topless Showgirls." No billboard promotes special appearances by porn starlets like Barbi Leigh. No valet awaits in some feeble attempt to make it seem like you're doing something more refined than gawking at naked babes. Morey's offers simply a pair of signs on the windowless door warning against "weapons" and "biker attire" and a small roadside billboard advertising "topless go-go-girls." Topless (and bottomless) go-go girl is more like it. Most nights the lone dancer on the makeshift runway is on a first-name basis with the handful of men in the joint and consults them before picking her tunes from a jukebox stocked with Bob Seger songs and country standards. Don't expect to see silicone-enhanced, liposuction-sculpted beauties like you find at most South Florida titty bars. The dancers at Morey's more closely resemble the big-haired girl from the wrong side of the tracks whom you secretly lusted after in high school. We're never sure whether to cover our eyes in embarrassment or order another $4 Bud and slip another dollar in her garter belt. After all, she probably has six little ones waiting back home at the trailer park.

At first glance Morey's Lounge looks like your average hillbilly hangout. No flashing neon lights announce "Topless Showgirls." No billboard promotes special appearances by porn starlets like Barbi Leigh. No valet awaits in some feeble attempt to make it seem like you're doing something more refined than gawking at naked babes. Morey's offers simply a pair of signs on the windowless door warning against "weapons" and "biker attire" and a small roadside billboard advertising "topless go-go-girls." Topless (and bottomless) go-go girl is more like it. Most nights the lone dancer on the makeshift runway is on a first-name basis with the handful of men in the joint and consults them before picking her tunes from a jukebox stocked with Bob Seger songs and country standards. Don't expect to see silicone-enhanced, liposuction-sculpted beauties like you find at most South Florida titty bars. The dancers at Morey's more closely resemble the big-haired girl from the wrong side of the tracks whom you secretly lusted after in high school. We're never sure whether to cover our eyes in embarrassment or order another $4 Bud and slip another dollar in her garter belt. After all, she probably has six little ones waiting back home at the trailer park.

One of this bar's best traits is its location, location, location. It's far enough north on Hollywood's Broadwalk to escape the teeming sunburned masses, but it's still only footsteps away from the tide. Mexican tile, honey-toned woods, and a cascade of white Christmas lights adorning the walls give the place a cozy and unpretentious feel. Two large plate glass windows face east and south for a nightly view that includes coconut palms, moonlit waters, and cruise ships twinkling on the horizon. But this lounge also opens up at 8 a.m. and serves buttermilk pancakes, omelets, and freshly squeezed orange juice, which, for those in need of a little hair of the dog, can be spiked with your choice of vodka. The kitchen also offers a prime rib special on Thursday nights ($11.95) and typical bar fare such as fried mozzarella sticks and slaw dogs. Weekends get hectic with regulars roaring up on Harleys and Ninjas, but weeknights belong to the mellow, the contemplative, and the clandestine.

One of this bar's best traits is its location, location, location. It's far enough north on Hollywood's Broadwalk to escape the teeming sunburned masses, but it's still only footsteps away from the tide. Mexican tile, honey-toned woods, and a cascade of white Christmas lights adorning the walls give the place a cozy and unpretentious feel. Two large plate glass windows face east and south for a nightly view that includes coconut palms, moonlit waters, and cruise ships twinkling on the horizon. But this lounge also opens up at 8 a.m. and serves buttermilk pancakes, omelets, and freshly squeezed orange juice, which, for those in need of a little hair of the dog, can be spiked with your choice of vodka. The kitchen also offers a prime rib special on Thursday nights ($11.95) and typical bar fare such as fried mozzarella sticks and slaw dogs. Weekends get hectic with regulars roaring up on Harleys and Ninjas, but weeknights belong to the mellow, the contemplative, and the clandestine.

With drag queens a dime a dozen these days, it's increasingly difficult for cross-dressers to stay fabulous and original at the same time. How many more impersonations of Madonna and Cher can we take? Well, kids, if you're looking for originality, check out Daisy DeadPetals, née Ken Calabria. Daisy is the proud holder of state and national titles in gender-bending pageants, and she's also a fixture on the South Florida drag circuit. Many female impersonators strive to create the illusion of real womanhood, and some can do it with jaw-dropping realism. But it's also important to win over your audience, and this is where Daisy shines. On any given Sunday, you can find her in the "Life's a Drag" show at the Voodoo Lounge in downtown Fort Lauderdale (formerly Independence Brewery). Not only does she strut her petite frame across the stage in impossibly short skirts and hot pants, she's quite the entertainer, too. She performs energetic and comedic "mixes," which are sound bites painstakingly spliced together from movies and/or songs to create a mini-musical. Not surprisingly, these mixes are on the bawdy side, but they're definitely funny. And while Daisy does her share of lip-synching, it's not to the typical drag-show standards, which in recent years have come to be anything by Celine Dion.

With drag queens a dime a dozen these days, it's increasingly difficult for cross-dressers to stay fabulous and original at the same time. How many more impersonations of Madonna and Cher can we take? Well, kids, if you're looking for originality, check out Daisy DeadPetals, née Ken Calabria. Daisy is the proud holder of state and national titles in gender-bending pageants, and she's also a fixture on the South Florida drag circuit. Many female impersonators strive to create the illusion of real womanhood, and some can do it with jaw-dropping realism. But it's also important to win over your audience, and this is where Daisy shines. On any given Sunday, you can find her in the "Life's a Drag" show at the Voodoo Lounge in downtown Fort Lauderdale (formerly Independence Brewery). Not only does she strut her petite frame across the stage in impossibly short skirts and hot pants, she's quite the entertainer, too. She performs energetic and comedic "mixes," which are sound bites painstakingly spliced together from movies and/or songs to create a mini-musical. Not surprisingly, these mixes are on the bawdy side, but they're definitely funny. And while Daisy does her share of lip-synching, it's not to the typical drag-show standards, which in recent years have come to be anything by Celine Dion.

"Do I make you horny, baby? Do I?" Austin Powers may claim to be the man who put the "grrr" in swinger, but he has nothing on the guys who own the Trapeze Club, which sends whatever image you may have of a swingers' club out the window. Behind its bland storefront are plush surroundings that make the Trapeze the Ritz-Carlton of "alternative-lifestyle" clubs: a stylishly lit triangular dance floor backed by a mirrored wall; an L-shape mahogany bar and lounge area; a lavish buffet of cheeses, fruits, and other hors d'oeuvres in a corner where couples engage in conversation and occasionally glance at the video screens above. On the way to the fun spots down the hallway, you'll pass a room with a pool table, couches, and adult video games, and male and female locker rooms are located across from the main social room, where there's a comfy sectional that can accommodate up to 10 or 15 people, always conducive to a "friendly" atmosphere. For people looking to get wet, there are three hot tubs side by side in another room, and the biggest room has four adjacent king-size beds. There's even a modified swing (read: sling) where a reclining body can sway freely back and forth. But it's the elegance and the cleanliness that make this hot spot an easy place to let yourself go -- little details like the tasseled throw pillows, the soft-colored walls, the intimate lighting. Of course an adult playground wouldn't be complete without fun themes like Disco Thursdays, Schoolgirl Nights, and Pumps-Only Nights, and monthly contests and events such as an erotic food-eating contest make for great interaction. Open to all willing and free-spirited adults, including singles (except for Saturdays and Sundays, which are reserved for couples), Trapeze is one club where you won't need a safety net for a high-flying act.