Nothing like being direct, we always say. This Broward County business has a moniker that, emblazoned on the side of its van, certainly inspires curiosity from other motorists. Walter Philbrick, a former Hialeah police officer who worked in homicide, decided to cash in on an untapped market when he retired. It seems the last thing relatives want to do after a family member has been shot or killed, he found, is grab a bottle of Fantastik and clean blood and scrape bits of brain off the wall. So two years ago he started Crime Scene Clean-Up, also known as PSI (Professional Sanitation International). Philbrick has contracts with nearly all South Florida police departments and charges roughly $400 a job. Two of his famous cases: cleaning the Cunanan houseboat ("the mattress was so full of blood it had to be thrown away") and the house of an Aventura doctor who was shot by a patient. The worst case: a man who jumped in front of a train in Miami, spewing body parts for 50 yards. Philbrick hopes to franchise his operation around the country. We're just glad he didn't choose an even more direct name like Body Parts Clean-Up or Dried-Blood Removal.

Your first glimpse of the Breakers' history of indulgence comes as you approach the imposing Italian Renaissance structure from the driveway. Walk past the limos and into the lobby, where Venetian chandeliers and gold leaf ceilings accentuate the feeling of opulence. The tapestries and fresh flowers further confirm it. This is old money. The original hotel was built more than a century ago with some of the robber baron dollars Henry Flagler made with John D. Rockefeller. While the building has aged gracefully, it was recently revitalized by an expensive refurbishment that has continued to earn it a place among the best hotels in the world. It has all the stars and diamonds bestowed by travel guides, and 1500 employees, who speak 25 languages, make sure it stays world-class. The spa, the boutiques (you can get Steuben glass at one), and the golf course add to the upper-class experience that can be had on a weekend getaway. But for that real old-money feel, we like dining in the Florentine Room, with its Continental cuisine, impressive wine list, and older gentlemen who wear jackets to dinner simply because one must.

Your first glimpse of the Breakers' history of indulgence comes as you approach the imposing Italian Renaissance structure from the driveway. Walk past the limos and into the lobby, where Venetian chandeliers and gold leaf ceilings accentuate the feeling of opulence. The tapestries and fresh flowers further confirm it. This is old money. The original hotel was built more than a century ago with some of the robber baron dollars Henry Flagler made with John D. Rockefeller. While the building has aged gracefully, it was recently revitalized by an expensive refurbishment that has continued to earn it a place among the best hotels in the world. It has all the stars and diamonds bestowed by travel guides, and 1500 employees, who speak 25 languages, make sure it stays world-class. The spa, the boutiques (you can get Steuben glass at one), and the golf course add to the upper-class experience that can be had on a weekend getaway. But for that real old-money feel, we like dining in the Florentine Room, with its Continental cuisine, impressive wine list, and older gentlemen who wear jackets to dinner simply because one must.

Yeah, there's a hint at a Greek motif because of the sporadic temple columns jutting from floor to ceiling, but club revelers care less about décor and more about where the boys are. And some of the hottest are grinding ass on the bar with barely a shoestring dividing one glorious cheek from the other. Saturday's the main night, with go-go boys readily accepting tips slipped beneath their barely there attire, and if you catch them at a willing moment, you might be able to cop a feel of their oft-oiled bods. This gay dance palace is the closest you'll get to South Beach while still behind Broward County lines, and its one-of-a-kind eye candy merits a small offering to the god Apollo, at the very least.

Yeah, there's a hint at a Greek motif because of the sporadic temple columns jutting from floor to ceiling, but club revelers care less about décor and more about where the boys are. And some of the hottest are grinding ass on the bar with barely a shoestring dividing one glorious cheek from the other. Saturday's the main night, with go-go boys readily accepting tips slipped beneath their barely there attire, and if you catch them at a willing moment, you might be able to cop a feel of their oft-oiled bods. This gay dance palace is the closest you'll get to South Beach while still behind Broward County lines, and its one-of-a-kind eye candy merits a small offering to the god Apollo, at the very least.

Let's start by categorically dismissing all male news dudes. When it comes to hair, there's really no variety at all to be found on their heads. (We will reserve comment on what's in their heads.) The only approved style, apparently, is close-cropped. Just once we'd like to see a guy sporting a luxuriant 'fro detail the tragic results of a deadly tornado, but we digress. Women are allowed much more follicular latitude. Still, we like our news babes tressed in long, blond hair. That's why we like Jennifer Gould. Not only does she feature some of the shiniest locks on the tube, arranged in that always appealing Lisa Kudrow style, she seems to revel in her blondness. We could almost see Gould occasionally excusing her on-air slip-ups with a gee-whiz, "Well, I am a blonde, you know." Yes Jenny, you are a blonde. And we love you all the more for it.

Let's start by categorically dismissing all male news dudes. When it comes to hair, there's really no variety at all to be found on their heads. (We will reserve comment on what's in their heads.) The only approved style, apparently, is close-cropped. Just once we'd like to see a guy sporting a luxuriant 'fro detail the tragic results of a deadly tornado, but we digress. Women are allowed much more follicular latitude. Still, we like our news babes tressed in long, blond hair. That's why we like Jennifer Gould. Not only does she feature some of the shiniest locks on the tube, arranged in that always appealing Lisa Kudrow style, she seems to revel in her blondness. We could almost see Gould occasionally excusing her on-air slip-ups with a gee-whiz, "Well, I am a blonde, you know." Yes Jenny, you are a blonde. And we love you all the more for it.

Don't let the anchors, saltwater aquarium, or back-lot dolphin mural fool you. It's not the nautical motif that packs the house on weekends. It's Freddie's reverent devotion to all things NASCAR that keeps local motorheads coming back for more. Three big-screen televisions and 23 regular-size ones dutifully show high-speed action and frenzied cheers of NASCAR, Busch, and Winston Cup races. Brass-and-wood plaques cover a side-wall honoring assorted Daytona winners and seven-time Winston Cup champ Dale Earnhardt, and a two-car Sega Daytona USA video game sits in the corner ready for anyone wanting to give virtual racing a try. Freddie's even gives patrons an up-close look at the real deal: The shell of Bill Elliott's 1993 number 11 Budweiser NASCAR Thunderbird hangs upside down from the ceiling. NASCAR runs 40 weeks a year, and for 50 bucks the bar offers a NASCAR club membership that includes a T-shirt, cap, bumper stickers, and ten free feeding passes for pig roasts cooked up every Sunday. Beer, pork, racecars… what more could a gal ask for?

Don't let the anchors, saltwater aquarium, or back-lot dolphin mural fool you. It's not the nautical motif that packs the house on weekends. It's Freddie's reverent devotion to all things NASCAR that keeps local motorheads coming back for more. Three big-screen televisions and 23 regular-size ones dutifully show high-speed action and frenzied cheers of NASCAR, Busch, and Winston Cup races. Brass-and-wood plaques cover a side-wall honoring assorted Daytona winners and seven-time Winston Cup champ Dale Earnhardt, and a two-car Sega Daytona USA video game sits in the corner ready for anyone wanting to give virtual racing a try. Freddie's even gives patrons an up-close look at the real deal: The shell of Bill Elliott's 1993 number 11 Budweiser NASCAR Thunderbird hangs upside down from the ceiling. NASCAR runs 40 weeks a year, and for 50 bucks the bar offers a NASCAR club membership that includes a T-shirt, cap, bumper stickers, and ten free feeding passes for pig roasts cooked up every Sunday. Beer, pork, racecars… what more could a gal ask for?

One syllable. Two letters. Six feet, ten inches of lean, sculpted muscle. ZO! Lots of great athletes have earned their single-name recognition: Michael, Shaq, Sweetness, Magic, the Babe. And although achievement generally precedes such recognition, this year Miami Heat center Alonzo Mourning took a huge leap forward in both realms. Zo spent his first few seasons here carrying the weight of a franchise and a city on his back while critics called him overpaid and underproductive. But it was the pressure he put on himself, rather than the pressure of the outside world, that led him to his first selection to the All-NBA First Team last year and to runner-up position in league MVP voting. The accolades kept coming this season: Zo was chosen to compete in Sydney with the 2000 USA Men's National Team. In addition to his achievements on the court, Mourning, who is the NBA's national spokesman for the prevention of child abuse, donates $100 for every blocked shot he makes to the Children's Home Society and Jackson Memorial Hospital. And his Summer Groove fundraiser, which benefits the Children's Home Society, has raised more than a million dollars in the three years it's existed. On the floor or off, Alonzo Mourning always stands tall.