At the risk of turning this into a “boys are so dreeeeeeamy” blog, I have to share a secret.

Peyton Manning’s appearance on Saturday Night Live kind of made me fall in love with Peyton Manning.

It was a combination of several things. His family of giants. His relaxed delivery. The dancing. The self-mockery. Sigh.

No doubt this will be gone from YouTube within hours, but please watch this fake commercial quickly and tell me if you’re not a little bit in love, too.

If that doesn’t work, check out NBC’s site and look for the United Way clip.

Taking stuff off of YouTube: That’s a whole other rant.

Once again, my old pal George Takei has done some astonishing work.  When he's not hanging out in Vermont, getting roasted just as much as William Shatner or doing guest spots on Heroes, he's doing segments for Jimmy Kimmel.  Just watch.

There were many things to like about last night's Super Bowl. Prince was phenomenal. The first quarter was a hilarious fumble-filled mud fight. The ad for the Harmon Garmon GPS system was genuinely amusing.

But if you watched the ads, no doubt you saw GM's latest offering.

In this ad, a robot at a GM plant drops a screw, loses his job, gets depressed, and KILLS HIMSELF, before realizing it was all a dream. Before there were robots making cars, people made cars. Basically, the message of the ad is "buy GM, or robots (PEOPLE) will DIE." 

In tone, at least at the beginning, it's reminiscent of this ad, perhaps the best commercial of all time.

But whereas the Ikea ad cynically embraces the buy-and-discard consumer culture, reminding us that technology is moving forward and we shouldn't be sentimental about all the crap we're accumulating, the GM ad encourages us to anthropomorphize the machines that are making our cars in order to guilt us into buying more. 

This ad haunted us for the remainder of the game.

The robot JUMPS OFF A BRIDGE.

And then the Bears lost. 

This summary goes backwards, like that episode of Seinfeld.

On the left is the girl from Dr. Who. On the right is the coolest book cover ever. What do they have in common?

Sunday's the Super Bowl. I could potentially win some money in an office pool (1% chance of money!), so I'll be watching. And eating various foods dipped in sundry sauces. Also, Masterpiece Theater is showing the British adaptation of Philip Pullman's Ruby in the Smoke. I'm actually relieved Battlestar Galactica took a pass this weekend; I couldn't have caught all three on the 'Faux.

Drew Barrymore's bringing the cute to Saturday Night Live. I have nothing against Drew Barrymore (except for all her terrible movies), but I doubt this week is going to equal the solid couple of weeks we've just had on SNL. Does anything in the world look worse than Music and Lyrics? 

I was just looking over the offerings for sad, sad Friday night, and noticed that in addition to your Ghost Whisperers and your 1 vs. 100s, you've got Super Bowl's Greatest Commercials 2007. That's really distilling things down to the essentials. In the actually watchable category, Steven Weber, the official Best Thing About Studio 60 ™, guest stars on Monk as a shock jock who, presumably, killed his wife in a devious manner. Wings reunion. Paging Thomas Hayden Church.

See you next week! 

The strangest thing happened the other day. I went to check the "scheduled recordings" on the TiFaux, and there weren't any. At first I suspected foul play or a broken machine, but the truth is more disturbing: There's nothing on.

Out of the nearly twenty shows I watch on a regular basis, not a single one was airing a new episode. 

It was with that bleak outlook that I chose to record Kevin Federline's WWE "wrestling" match.

That's him in the hat. The white hat.

I have yet to watch this once-in-a-lifetime television event, and frankly, I'm not sure my sensitive consitution can handle it. I'm hoping that the combination of several horrible things — Kevin Federline, WWE wrestling — will result in something so awful it's actually wonderful, but odds are the whole thing will just be a complete mind-numbing disaster. We shall see.

But The Office and Ugly Betty and 30 Rock are back on Thursday, and Courtney Cox's new FX show, Dirt, premieres tonight. Presumably this means things will return to normal, and I won't be forced to take drastic measures like this ever again.

My college roommate Allison introduced me to the concept of No Shame during our senior year. Living in our sorority house surrounded by a dozen girls who were each in various stages of denial about their alcoholism, there was very little that Allison and I found true shame in. Had to leave your medieval lit class to throw up because you drank too much the night before? No shame. Allowed a boy whose name you didn't know to see your underwear? No shame. Took your beer into the shower so you could pregame while gettin prettied up? Ain't no shame in that, Allison would tell us. She was wise beyond her years. Even though we are separated by hundreds of miles and the mason-dixon line, I try to keep Allison's Ain't No Shame spirit alive in everything I do. And that's why I have no problem telling you that I watch TBS's original series My Boys, and I love it.

One of my more obnoxious philosophies in life is to automatically hate anything that is being directly marketed at me. This, for example, is why I don't shop at Urban Outfitters. And it's also why I should despise a show about a sassy 20something who's a sports writer on a show "About how women think… when they think like a guy." At any given moment, 20% of my brain power is devoted to basic human functions (walking without falling, not insulting strangers on the street for their "fashion" taste), 30% is devoted to counting down to when MTV premieres the new season of The Hills, and Jack Bauer's return, 10% is thinking about what I'm going to eat next, and 40% is consumed with thoughts of David Wright. My Boys was made for me, which means the chances of my hating it were significantly higher than the chances of my hating, say, New Yankee Workshop, the carpentry show that my boyfriend watches with a passion generally reserved for college basketball. A plucky sportswriter on the Chicago Cubs beat using sports metaphors for her dating life and interacting platonically with a group of similarly-minded dudes? Recipe for disaster, right? WRONG!

It's enormously clever, both in the writing and scene editing– as PJ (that's the chick– they even gave her a boys' name, how adorable and unexpected!) is breaking up with her boyfriend, they give you cutaways to her guy friends playing an epic game of Rock Em Sock Em Robots in their favorite bar. And while they fall into the Grey's Anatomy trap of having cheesy voiceovers bookend each episode, they're always sports analogies and are in no way worse than Carrie Bradshaw swooning "I couldn't help but wonder… what if our past is like an ANCHOR… holding us down?"

Final thought: Think Scrubs for baseball fans. Well played, TBS. Well played.

On the one hand, Robert Rey, black belt, star of the E! Channel's "Doctor 90210" and all-around cheeseball, brought his own brand of justice to a recent plane ride to LAX.  Apparently, when the plane was getting ready to land, some old dude freaked out and got out of his seat, shoving a flight attendant.  As he strutted into first class, Rey sprung into action.

"When you get a black belt, at that stage your brain just clicks into action," he said. "I restrained this gentleman in a very aggressive way without hurting him."

Robert Rey, TiFaux salutes you.

On a side note, my favorite part of the above article is this last paragraph: 

Rey also appears as himself on a Carl's Jr. commercial in which he advises a chicken to undergo breast augmentation surgery.

On the other hand, that Michelle Rodriguez just can't seem to keep her nose clean.

The continuing fallout from her drunk driving arrest involves an LA judge ordering her to serve 60 days in jail and 30 days worth of community service.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten you, Cheerleader Nation. How could I stay away from your sloppy hairstyles (Kaitlin) your flat iron addictions (Chelsea) and your special way of making a full set of eyelashes clump together into 4 spikes (Ashley). How could I abandon you now when, headed into the regional competition, you’ve been slacking on your basket tosses and leaving your coach and choreographer wondering if you Want It badly enough. I could never leave you. No, I couldn’t.

 Especially when this week’s episode brought us the single best throwaway line in television history. One of those offhanded comments that makes you sit up and go “Wait, did I hear that correctly?” a la george bush doesn’t like black people.

Meet Saleem.

Saleem is choreographing the Dunbar cheerleaders of Lexington, KY to what we hope will be their 3rd consecutive national championship. He’s doing such with chants like “WE ARE {clap} {clap} DUN-BAR!” so I’m going to go ahead and assume that he has his phD in literature from Columbia.

We don’t know much else about Saleem other than he has a “day job” that he never describes and he takes things way, way, way too seriously. Then, this episode, Donna (the coach/ mother of teeny cheerleader Ryan– yes, that’s a girl) drops the bomb– Saleem is roommates with the cheer choreographer for their rival team, Tates Creek. Who is also a dude.

Do the math here. Were you to, say,  google apartments in Lexington, KY, you’d rapidly discover that Saleem can live on his own for less than half of what I pay to have a roommate in NY. But instead, Saleem goes home to his (hot) roommate, where they discuss heel stretches and partner stunting. Yeah. Yeah. I’ve got your number.

Look, I’m not saying that I make a HABIT of watching ABC Family Originals. My sunday is pretty much jammed with Grey’s Anatomy, Family Guy, and Cheerleader Nation (which, by the way, OMG, it’s best show tv has seen in forever– forevah evah? forevah evah!). But when Channel 14 promises me The Cutting Edge Two: Going For The Gold, well, I sit up and I pay attention.

We all remember The Cutting Edge, yes? If pressed, I would say that between 40-60% of my close friends own this on VHS. And it continues to be worth the $8 they originally spent for it. So, so, good. Small plot summary: Doug Dorsey has his Olympic hockey career ended by an eye injury (is it an eye injury? A concussion? Help me out here) and is recruited to complete a pairs figure skating team with spoiled and haughty Kate Moseley, who is on her way not only to marrying the wrong guy, but to living a life of quiet predictability when Doug arrives to shake things up. FYI, Doug is played by DB Sweeney, whose IMDB headshot rivals Hugh Grant’s mug shot– not in terms of attractiveness, but rather creepy cracked out desperation. Perhaps this is because his biggest project since The Cutting Edge was short lived teen series “Live as we know it” with kelly osbourne. I’m just postulating. Anyway, there are some hilarious moments (”Hey, there’s only two things I do well, sweetheart, and skating’s the other one!”) and appropriate third act complications before they realize they’re in love and kick some ass at the Olympics.

I know what you’re thinking, and I’m one step ahead of you (as per always)– how could a plot so interesting and not at all formulaic be manipulated into a made for TV sequel? Will the Hilary Duff fans of the universe really tune in for a sassy skating movie? Can we ride the wave of the 06 Winter Games right into the shore of Cutting Edge 2 without wanting to take a skate blade to the temple?

This time, the sassy ice queen figure skater (get it? ice queen? Appropriate BOTH because of her skating on ice, and also her chilly demeanor?) hooks up with an equally sassy Xgames inline skater during a summer outing at the beach. Here’s the thing, though– neither knows that the other is famous for their respective athletic triumphs! They love each other based just on who they are! And, I’m guessing, the dude’s fondness for puka shell necklaces and the girl’s insistence on wearing spandex! But wait, then they find out that they hadn’t been totally upfront with one another! and they get upset and part ways! then she needs a new skating partner! and GUESS WHO shows up at auditions! But then, OMG, his exgirlfriend who looks like a scary mix between skeletor and Jeri Ryan shows up! And the pair totally blows their long program! And we’re JUST NOT SURE if they’re going to pull it out in the end, romantically or otherwise!

I don’t want to ruin the ending for you, so please just make a point to catch the repeats. And when you do, please mentally explore this topic: Who is Figure Skating Chick an odd hybrid of?

 I’m going with Jennifer Love Hewitt, Hayley from the OC, and a splash of Jennifer Garner. Thoughts?

Seriously, nobody knows! The greatest scientific minds in the world can’t come to a consensus on this. You’d like it would be because it’s made of water, but you would be so wrong. Also, there’s like a dozen different kinds of ice. Bet you didn’t know that, huh?

So lots of people have already said lots of stuff about the ladies’ ice skating last night. Personally I feel a little robbed, as a spectator, as after about 30 seconds of the winner’s routine I fast-forwarded because she was boring and it was really, really late. I am not a fan of these new rules of judging. It’s extremely trying to watch the same jumps and spirals over and over again, just because those are the ones that will earn you the most points. Where’s the weird, fun choreography? Even Sasha Cohen’s choreography, which was clearly the best, was pretty generic.

It was somewhat satisfying, however, to be able to have announcer-lady really break it down for us and explain why even though Sasha Cohen fell twice she still beat Irina Slutskaya (fall count: one). It’s because she scored better on spins and artistry, by the way.