Big Brother 5
Scott got evicted. Well, there's a shocker. So I guess the Four Horsemen will have to find a new name. Unfortunately for them, the Three Stooges is already taken. Meanwhile, Adria and Natalie revealed that they had been switching places in the house, pretending to be the same person, yet no one flipped out. Not even that wacko Jase, who was probably still reeling from the devastating loss of his partner in pectorals. (OK, was I the only one whose skin started to crawl when he put on his sunglasses, took off his shirt and started pumping iron immediately following the eviction? Dude needs to lose the headwrap and let some blood get to his brain.) Everyone was all hugs and smiles. All things considered, I guess two gals who share a face are better than two guys (Scott and Jase) who share a brain.
Blue Collar TV
The theme of tonight's installment is "Naked," or as host Jeff Foxworthy said, "Nekkid." Thankfully, only one of the lame skits actually featured a character in the buff. (I'm guessing that Foxworthy was just looking for an excuse to tell his nekkid jokes in the opening monologue.) Again, the bit that came the closest to making me laugh was the "Redneck Dictionary" segment: European "Turn that way! European on my boots!" (Hey, I didn't say I actually laughed; I just came close.) But I feel compelled to mention that I caught Bill Engvall's stand-up routine on Comedy Central this weekend and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that, unlike his Blue Collar cohort Larry the Cable Guy and sometime guest star Ron White, Engvall is a genuinely funny guy whose routine centers on cute stories about his wife and kids rather than misogynistic potshots aimed at the opposite sex. I just can't figure out why he's slumming it on this show.
Last Comic Standing
It's down to the final three and the winner will be announced next Thursday, following next Tuesday's expanded (translation: painfully drawn out) recap and performance edition. I have two words for you: Gary Gulman. I also have two words for Mr. Gulman: Call me.
Wild Wild West
"Wikki wikki wah wikki wah wah..."
Ultimate Hollywood Blonde
After five nights of inane countdowns, host Pamela Anderson is named the UHB. I haven't seen anything this shamelessly overhyped yet utterly anticlimactic since the "Project DNA" twins reveal on Big Brother 5.
Celebrity Poker Showdown
Tonight's showdown was definitely more animated than recent weeks, with Hank Azaria, Jeff Ross, Gail O'Grady, and SNL's Seth Meyers and Amy Poehler. But at two hours, it's still a long affair, so I decided to entertain myself by casting the movie version of this matchup. O'Grady would be played by Kim Cattrall (she should be grateful for the work after harpooning the Sex and the City movie), Reese Witherspoon would play the perky Poehler, Hugh Grant could play Meyers (because Meyers is much cuter than David Spade), Robert Wuhl would play Ross (they're both guys you've seen before and just can't quite place) and Azaria would be played by... oh, hell, Hank Azaria. I mean, who else could do all those voices? Unless, of course, he's suffering from the severe TMJ he's headed for by chewing so hard on that poor piece of gum.
Graham Norton Effect
Was I the only one who saw it coming when Norton found an audience member with canoeing experience and sent the poor schlub off to a club called Paddles? And what was up with that weird contest to see who could recognize his or her costumed partner by the technique he used to simulate sex with a blow-up doll? I guess the really important question is why do I care? I have to say that Norton himself is a consistently catty hoot, especially when he's skewering celebrities. Tonight's target: Catherine Zeta-Jones. Best line: "So now she starts acting." (His reaction to reports of her tearful testimony at a recent court hearing.)
The Ex Files
No, Scully and Mulder aren't back. I just had a close encounter of the worst kind: Very, very few things are more surreal than seeing one's G-list actor ex in a national commercial. (I'm not going to tell you which ad it is, but suffice it to say that I saw it three times tonight alone and my college roommate and my mother have already called me to ask if I'd seen it yet.) Yes, it's the price one pays for once dating an aspiring thespian, but I had lulled myself into the false sense of security that 10 years and 3000 miles supplies one that we wouldn't have one of those awkward chance encounters that exes sometimes face. But now here he is, four feet in front of me, shillin' like a villain on three separate networks. The moral of this story? Stick with public-power-market forecasters ever seen one of their commercials? Me neither.