With the rise of satellite radio, the local FM band is not only bland, it's doomed. Looking for classic rock comfort foodç You can tune in Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" pretty much any time of day at Big 105.9. Fancy yourself an alt-rocker, ca. 1994ç The Stone Temple Pilots are always a button push away at 93 Rock (93.1). ButWVUM, "The Voice of the University of Miami," dares to be utterly unpredictable. And sure, sometimes "unpredictable" can mean "uneven." Or "dead air." But where else but a student-run radio station are you going to hear everything from Brahms to Wilcoç Even XM and Sirius alt-rock stations are unlikely to give you, as The Wave did one recent afternoon, a two-fer of Mono Puff's "Extra Krispy" (It's like once you get down in New York City/You'll never go home again/It's like once you've had Extra Krispy/You'll never go back again) and "Night Security" (I want to know the day custodian/I want to hear his harsh refrain/But most of all, I hear the calling/Of the watchman after hours). Sure the patter can be a little amateurish, and there are those occasionally unintended silences. But we'll take those surprises any day over another soul-deadening rendition of "Iron Man" or — gag — "Light My Fire."

It was difficult enough explaining to out-of-towners in the Eighties that the synthesizer tones of Jan Hammer didn't blare on every Miami street corner. Now it's next to impossible to get anyone to believe that salsa doesn't permeate every waking moment of life in the city. Thankfully Eddy Edwards does his best to remind us that there are other immigrant subcultures taking root in Miami. For more than twenty years, Edwards has hosted Caribbean Riddims (now on the revamped WTPS), where he has introduced Miamians to some of the other sounds from the islands. Reggae, calypso, soca, and zouk are the styles you'll hear on his Saturday afternoon show. Scattered throughout the music and entertaining banter are regular features covering news, politics, and public interest issues. The show not only shares the musical culture of the smaller Caribbean islands, but also focuses on the needs of immigrants now living in South Florida. Thanks to Edwards, who is also an events promoter and a longtime advocate for immigrants' rights.

A gay clubç Straight, single womenç Yup. Counterintuitive perhaps, but effective. Score is as lively as they come and attracts an interesting, diverse crowd — more than a few of them attractive women. In the comfort of gay male friends, women are more apt to cut loose, party like banshees, and let their inhibitions run wild. Why notç No one's going to hit on them in a gay club, rightç That's where you come in. Be careful, though. A single woman's night out with her gay male friends is sacred. Don't be a lech, and don't be deceitful — pretending to be gay will get you nowhere.

It's 6:15 p.m. and you're driving home from work, shoulders tense from hovering over a computer or an incompetent coworker all day. You flick on 99 Jamz (WEDR) — 'cause what's a better stress-buster than some bass-thumping hip-hop? From your speakers pours The Takeover, Miami's most popular hip-hop radio show. You might get yelled at by the animated DJ Khaled or you might get an earful of K. Foxx, the lady of the show, a.k.a. "Miami's Sweetest Chocolate Kiss." The 25-year-old Foxx has the perfect on-air mix between laid-back and hyped. Her energy radiates over the airwaves and can slowly bring your cubicle-induced low back to normal. Whether she's politely pounding a celeb for the latest gossip, introducing the next song, or even telling you, "Don't touch that dial," when K. Foxx talks, you listen. A native of Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen, K. isn't that brash New Yawk chick. With her signature "Mmuah!" and a down-to-earth sweetness, she's like your big-city cousin that keeps you in the loop on what's hot and never laughs at your southern twang. K. has been on the air at WEDR for four-and-a-half years, ever since being discovered by the station's head honchos, Ced Hollywood, Derrick Baker, and Jerry Rushin. Now she's one of Miami's most recognized voices, and she is everywhere — appearing on Rick Ross's debut CD, posing as Octopussy in The Source magazine, hosting parties and events all over Miami. Fat Joe even dedicated a respectfully raunchy lyric to her. But K. Foxx's recent turn as a calendar pinup is proving to the world that she truly embodies her motto, "I Am Every Woman." Appearing in full regalia as Billie Holiday, Josephine Baker, and Tina Turner, Foxx singlehandedly kills the notion of DJs having "a face made for radio."

The all-important first date. The all-important first impression. Fail here and chances are you'll end with a polite "I'll call you" instead of a spine-tingling game of tonsil hockey. So here's a foolproof plan: A snorkeling trip from John Pennekamp Park. First you have the hour-long Miami-to-Key Largo journey when you can actually talk to your companion to see if they possess any qualities you find vaguely appealing. The park opens at 8:00 a.m., so you also get to see their face as it really is, not through a drunken haze or the overly forgiving nonexistent lighting of a club. Boats depart for Grecian Rocks, a coral reef some five miles offshore, at 9:00 a.m., noon, and 3:00 p.m. daily, and cost $28.95 round trip for adults. Snorkel equipment is offered for $6, making good use of the money test — will she even offer to payç Will he absolutely insist on payingç Once onboard the motor boat comes the shedding of outer clothing layers so you can examine the complete package. Splash around in the crystal-clear waters for an hour and a half and bask in South Florida's glorious weather before heading back to land. All that fun in the sun will no doubt make you hungry, leaving the evening open for a cozy dinner and a cool beer at one of the surrounding casual eateries. A perfect end to a perfect day.

If you've made it to the second date, chances are you've been playing by the rules and haven't put out ... yet. Sure you've gotten all that awkward past-relationship conversation out of the way, and your good boy/girl act was Oscar-worthy, but what nowç The second date is when you really start to get to know each other. And what better place to find out about your potential mate's dirty laundry than at Laundry Bar, where you can drown your inhibitions in a cocktail and peek at your date's undies without actually having to undressç After all, you can tell a lot about someone by their drawers. Is she a G-string goddess or a granny-panty prudeç Is he a boring boxer Bob or a free-balling stallionç And most importantly, do those undies look like they've been run over by a chocolate tireç Well, even if they do, Laundry Bar is fully equipped with washers, dryers, detergents, and plenty of booze to help you forget that frightful sight. And even if you settle for just having a drink, the novelty of a laundromat/bar hybrid will provide you with something to talk about to help ease your jitters.

Perhaps you've seen this sultry vixen, her voluptuous cleavage and her boadacious curves wrapped tightly in a mini spandex police uniform, purring at you from a billboard off the Palmetto Expressway. Her gorgeous hazel eyes and flowing black mane beckon your attention away from the traffic snarl of morning rush hour. Born in Havana five days after the new year in 1973, Machín was raised in a very conservative family. Her father, Pepe Horta, was once director of the famed Cine de la Habana. Machín is one of the stars of El Traketeo, the morning show on La Kalle 98.3 FM, from 6:00 to 11:00 a.m Monday through Friday. With her cohosts Lazarito and Carlucho, she is poised to take over the Spanish-language airwaves, now that the trio's rivals, Enrique Santos and Joe Ferrero, no longer reside at competitor El Zol 95.7 FM

Ask a Kendallite. Your average South Beach resident, Fort Lauderdalian, and foreigner have one thing in common: They don't know the sprawling suburbs of Miami. To them it's just a frightening maze of salmon-color townhouses and strip malls. If you live south of Miller Drive, you need a landmark, and it must be a place that's easily visible from South Dixie Highway. Forget Sunset Place. It's too new. Merrick Park whoç To keep things simple, just tell them you live near Dadeland Mall and you'll get that "ah" of recognition. Maybe it's because Dadeland is one of Miami's oldest malls — it began in 1962 as an outdoor shopping center. Or perhaps it's because of the place's infamous history. The La Madrina-directed machine-gun massacre in 1979 is the stuff of fish-scale legend, and was forever immortalized in the 2006 documentary Cocaine Cowboys. Even the most hip of South Beachers has probably shopped there at least once, and it's no surprise to see groups of amazed customers dragging suitcases on wheels. For Caribbean and Latin American visitors, Dadeland is the number one shopping destination in South Florida (next to Sawgrass, of course). It's probably the biggest thing in Kendall, and thanks to the Romero Britto welcome sign at Dadeland Station, the most recognizable. Try telling a foreigner that you live near the Falls. You might as well say the Corn Palace.

Cigar smoke clings to the air inside the Habana Cuba Cigar Lounge like two teenagers on senior prom night. The baseball game on the giant plasma screen TV set is drowned out by the din of men decked out in guayaberas and dress slacks playing bones on the two tournament tables. They munch on pastelitos and drink Cuba libres. Armando Lopez, a plump Miami Lakes retiree who cautiously nursed his rum and coke on a recent night, avoided the taunts from his pal, Marcelo Llavore, to drink more. "You just want to throw me off my game," Lopez hissed. At another table a bald Cubanazo with a bushy mustache slammed down a nine. "DOMINO!" he bellowed. His opponent gritted his teeth and clenched his right fist. The lounge's owner, Rafael Nodal — who bears a striking resemblance to actor Joe Mantegna — slyly stepped in before the fisticuffs flew. "Gentlemen, por favor, we're not in Little Havana," Nodal chastised, holding a smoldering stogie in his right hand. Last year the gregarious Cuban opened the lounge as a way to promote his line of Cuban-American cigars. Now the lounge has morphed into one of the few places men can release their testosterone-fueled competitiveness seven days a week. "We're all about creating a nice ambiance," Nodal says, "where you can enjoy a good, stiff drink and a fine cigar."

The beast known as Miami's nightlife scene is vicious. Clubs go as easily as they come, regardless of how long they've been around or who promotes them. There's rarely mercy for dying clubs, so it's refreshing when an old favorite is injected with new life. The former Slak Lounge (and before that, Two Last Shoes) was a well-known destination for indie and underground music — the beloved, now-eight-years-running Revolver party was once held there. The venue has now been resuscitated as Circa28. Owner Lynda Hernandez refurbished the space after it had been closed for about two years. "When we got the building, it was a disaster, one step from being condemned," says Zeke Hernandez, Lynda's husband. "We cleaned it up, we gave it the love it needed and deserved, and we tried to appeal to the sensibilities of the art community." Inside, the split-level club is immaculate and decked out with chic decor from bar top to light fixtures. The first floor is warm and inviting, with a bookshelf on one wall and comfy couches against another. The second level is a spacious room where partygoers dance. After the place reopened in December 2006 imbibers quickly began packing the club for its weekly parties. Best of all, there's a smoke filter on both floors to prevent cigarette stink from hiding in your hair.