Skating with CelebritiesIt's the first elimination round. One team skates off the rink forever, without the benefit of America's votes. (Take that, Dancing with the Stars!) New technical requirement: synchronized footwork. Theme: the '70s.

Kristy and Lloyd: I love how they keep calling her a "movie actress." Don't know why, I just get a kick out of it. This week, Buffy is resurrected in the eyes of the judges. The pair connects. They wear cool headbands (not!). They get the highest score for the evening: 50.7.
Dave and Nancy: I'm not sure, but if you clocked them, I believe they may have performed the slowest spins in recorded history. A definite letdown from last week. Score: 47.4.
Bruce and Tai: These Olympians were idolized in the '70s. Sir CrankyPants says they're not as fit as they were back then. Harsh. True, but harsh. Score: 49.
Jillian and John: Jillian suffers with a groin injury. So how does the pair deal with Jillian's nagging injury? John carries her around for half of the routine. One lift after another after another. Then the judges pretend like they were disappointed with their effort. Yet, they still got the second-highest score: 50.4.
Kurt and Deborah: The Canadian and the former Electric Youth skate to Grease's "You're the One that I Want." Not much of a stretch for the girl who's played Sandy and Rizzo on the stage. They're better this week, but if it had been me, I would have subtracted points for Deborah's American Idol-ism. She actually says she's now "in it to win it." They get my weekly "boooo"  again! Score: 48.3.
Todd and Jenni: The big afro does nothing for Todds grace. He wipes out after attempting some intricate footwork. And by "intricate," I mean putting one foot in front of another. Unfortunately, the judges have no choice but to freeze these two out for good. Score: 47.9.  Bettina Charles

24
I think at least three geological eras passed since we last checked in with Jack and Co. Glaciers have melted, species have come and gone, and yet traumatized teen Derek still hasn't managed to locate a pack of standard FBI-issue wet wipes. (Seriously, kid. You got a little something right there.) The weeklong wait between episodes notwithstanding, I'm still plenty fired up to find out what happens when terrorists stop being polite and start getting real. Turns out those canisters from the airport bunker are chock-full of nerve gas, as Curtis and the boys in Forensics are able to suss out by analyzing a few dead rats. (Hmm, dead rat, you say? You don't suppose this is actually a message from the bus-crash mastermind in Neptune, do you? Somebody call Keith Mars, stat.) Elsewhere, we've got a first lady on the lam, a dirty CTU agent who not only bedded Chloe but who also apparently didn't realize he's dirty, and a mee-yow-worthy interrogation going on between the many loves of Jack Bauer. Speaking of which, as excited as I am for a fraught-with-subtext, emotional-yet-manly bedside reunion between soul mates Jack and Tony ("Brokeback ICU," anyone?), I must confess, I'm always game for a good zag just when you think the show's about to zig. Specifically in this case: Jack plugging an assassin in the throat with a shiny pair of surgical scissors. Tenderness can wait, so long as there's some good grappling goin' on. (You know what I mean. Shut up.) Still, Jack's comment to McGill about his history with Tony has me eagerly awaiting the CTU remix of a certain Killers song we all know and love and the chorus might just go a little something like this: "There ain't no suspect for this crime, Tony was a friend of mine, so come on, oh come on, oh come onnnn...." Oh, except Jack finds out before the end of the episode that the suspect is in fact Walt Cummings. Way to step all over my VH1 moment there, Mr. SmartyPants. Chana Shwadlenak

Courting Alex
Welcome back to prime-time television, Jenna Elfman! Oh, how I've missed her adorable wackiness. For weeks now I've been reading that her new show wasn't worth watching, and I was a bit skeptical going into it, thinking it couldn't get any better than Dharma and Greg, but I have to admit I really enjoyed it. Elfman is hilarious as Alex, a workaholic whose idea of intimacy is sleeping with her cell phone. No wonder she's still single in the big city. OK, it does sound like the premise of so many other failed shows out there (RIP, Emily's Reasons Why Not) but watching Alex take that leap of faith onto the motorcycle during the final moments had me wanting more. Maybe it was more of Josh Randall I was wanting. The former Ed star was supercharming as Scott, the owner of a bar that coincidentally was the bar Alex's firm was trying to buy out. Gotta admire a man who's not willing to take millions of dollars for his family's pride and joy to be turned into a skyscraper. But doesn't Alex know that mixing business with pleasure has "catastrophe" written all over it? After she tried so hard to ignore her obvious feelings for Scott, I was so relieved when Alex gave in and spontaneously ditched work for Coney Island. Oh, and I also must give major props to Dabney Coleman as Alex's witty daddy, who without a doubt had the funniest line in the show: When Alex mistakes him for her assistant, he replies, "Well, here's how you tell us apart: I've got a better ass." Enough said.  Maya Schechter