Desperate Housewives
"What the hell kind of street do we live on?" Edie bluntly asked. Glad that someone in the 'hood finally recognized that there's more outrageous happenings in one week on Wisteria Lane than in Pine Valley.

But I was really grateful that the outspoken, tartily dressed troublemaker, who gets shoved aside far too often, got a chance to shine. Ever since her only frenemy Mrs. Huber was offed, Edie has had to learn what real friends are for the hard way. Tonight, after snidely remarking, "What if you want to be supportive, but you just can't stand listening to other people bitch?", she got a chance to put her new skills to the test by making out with creepy Paul Young in order to help Susan sneak out of his house undetected. Somehow I think I would have let Mary Alice's/Angela's or whatever the heck her name really is' widower discover the neighborhood snoop who already burned down my house and stole the heart of the only sexy criminal plumber in town.

While Edie was being as self-sacrificing as she could be, America's favorite homebodies kept themselves occupied: Lynette almost had a wrestling match in a bouncy tent at a 6-year-old's birthday party; Bree got to be her deliciously prissy self while saving face and her husband from himself; and Gaby got Punk'd... oh, wait, that was her alter ego, who's probably going to take a hunk out of that hunky lawnboytoyfriend for setting her up; Reel Gaby got busy stealing a Port-A-Potty and doing her laundry in a Jacuzzi because of a nasty sewage problem. That stinks. But Bree pointedly admitted that it was more mortifying to have people laughing at you than feeling sorry for you. She's got a point; the best characters on the show are the ones that we can both laugh at and with — like Gaby and her backup issues, not the pratfall-ridden and depressed Susan. — Angel Cohn

Grey's Anatomy
Well, that does it. I am never having surgery. Ever. And Lasik doesn't count. Honestly, let me die. Because between this clich&#233-infested hospital drama, Presidio Med, MDs and most late-model ER episodes, I'm convinced that every resident is a clueless pantywaist and all attendings are either massive, sexist tools or order-barking bitches. Even Patrick Dempsey — who, along with Tim Daly, may be the best thing the natural aging process has given us in years — is coming off as a perfectly dimpled jerk, tossing off groaners like "Today is a great day to save lives... Let's have some fun, people" that would give the cast of Flatliners the trots. Granted, the patient is not entirely toe-up. After all, there is the supremely cool Sandra Oh as the second-banana surgical newbie. And Ellen Pompeo, our leading lady with the health-guru mother lost to Alzheimer's, benefits from more of Renee Zellweger's good points than even Miss Squinty does lately. Hopefully, the ladies will get to show more signs of life and less hints of House-lite in future hours, seeing how the case of that brain-bleeding beauty-pageant princess had about as much heat as a four-day-old cadaver. If we're lucky, once the gang moves into Meredith's mansion, things will go from over-the-top to under the sheets, which could help raise temperatures greatly. After all, if you're gonna scrub in with ABC's top-notch first-year residents this season, a little soap can't hurt. — Damian J. Holbrook


The Bachelor
Oh my. I'm... uh... what the... God have mercy. Honestly, I don't know what to say right now. This was appalling. And not in a "So bad, it was good" way. More like the "That didn't really just happen, right?" category. Or "The end is nigh" sort. Wow. Well, first, maybe we should all just take a moment of silence for the death of same-old, same-old reality as we know it. Because now that the seventh round of man-meets-man-eaters series is throwing the rules out the window, the ladies-in-wanting have done the same with their manners, integrity and, if you're poetry-spouting swimsuit model Kristine, sanity. What the hell? You love him? After 48 hours? Please, you nitwit. He's Charlie O'Connell. Not his more famous, cuter brother, Jerry, aiight? Charlie. Maybe you should be praying for yourself instead of having your "name written on his heart," whatever the hell that means. Seriously, I don't care how much more charming our good-time Charlie is than the other ungettable guys who have come before him and failed to find love, there is no need for anyone to give up the benefits of good breeding (and grooming) for a freakin' rose, OK, people?! I'm gonna need a Silkwood shower to delouse myself of the horror of both Kindle's inexplicable name and unrepentant theft of Carrie's seat on the first group date to shoot pool. Or the barely syllabic disservice to all models that will forever be known as Danushka. Now she's a damn shame. And that Krisily, with the body shots and sorority-girl rasp? Yeah, honey, you're not the bitch of the house — you're the bitch of the year. There is so much to wrap my head around here, and to go over the sins, the slams and the Jerry Springer ugliness of the rose ceremony free-for-all would take all night. And unlike some of these embarrassments to their families, I refuse to bend over backward to fill any holes... on this page, ya gutterheads! But I will say my that roomie and I will be glued to the screen from here on out, rooting on single mom Kara and curvy real girl Kimberley while hoping that Chuckles gets exactly what he wants out of this. And a supply of Valtrex for anything he wasn't looking for. — DJH


Veronica Mars
Gimme a V! Gimme an E! Gimme an R! ... OK, well, you get the point. If the Neptune High ballers get their own pom-pom girls aplenty, then why shouldn't the girl who rescues the school mascot and ensures the team a big advantage get her own cheer? No matter, I think I'm going to start my own little pep rally for the only TV teen cool enough to be both Betty and Veronica. Who wants to bake the snickerdoodles?

At least this new episode — finally — brought us closer to the culprit behind the Lilly Kane murder. But does it seem too obvious that it is Celeste? Or are they all covering up for her maybe-brother Duncan? I have a feeling that there's going to be another twist before the finale. And I just hope that Veronica's mom stays in rehab for the whole stint, otherwise the teen's selfless act will be for naught, along with the letter of recommendation that she bribed out of the school principal. — AC

The Amazing Race
Wow, I could barely catch my breath after that two-hour episode, and the only thing I did was watch it from my recliner. If there has been a more compelling, emotional, inspiring, suspenseful installment of reality television, I haven't seen it. Gretchen, please forgive me for calling you pessimistic last week. The way you handled yourself when you were injured was... well, amazing. I mean, encouraging your worried husband, Meredith, to "Find the clue!" as you were being bandaged was the ultimate example of grace under pressure. And let me just say, I had a feeling that this was a nonelimination round in the making. But taking their money and backpacks was brutal. I'm sure that penalty had been planned out beforehand, but no doubt Phil must've felt like garbage having to implement it. (Speaking of backpacks, I just wanted to yell at the airline-counter woman who told Uchenna, Joyce, Ron and Kelly that they had to check their bags.)

How cool was that when we heard that Uchenna and Joyce had presented Meredith and Gretchen with some spare clothes? And it was just as nice to see everyone else assisting them financially — well, that is except Rob and Amber and the soon-to-be bit in their karmic ass, Ray and Deana. Then, just when you thought it couldn't get any more medically jarring, Brian and Greg had that horrible car accident. That poor camera guy. Thank goodness we found out at the end of the leg that he was OK. Of course, Rob and Amber didn't know that back when they passed the downed vehicle and kept right on going.

Much like last week, I truly — truly — was hoping that those two wouldn't do or say anything particularly appalling, just so I wouldn't have to write about it. Well, that was foolish thinking, because between that bit of inaction and Rob's joking comment about Meredith and Gretchen ("I'm not sure she fell down. He mighta pushed her just for effect, so people would feel bad for her"), they officially drive me crazy. Look, just because something is labeled a "game" and you "make good TV," doesn't mean you get to act unethically and be profoundly inconsiderate. (Amber, please, at least now, stop wondering why no one likes you two, and don't giggle when Rob makes a comment like the one he did about M and G.) There's a million bucks on the line, that's "business." (And remember, even Phil was looking at them quizzically for passing Brian and Greg's accident.)

Back to the competition, which turned into an edge-of-your-recliner foot race between Brian and Greg and Ray and Deana (who were getting increasingly annoyed with each other). What a finish! I literally yelled "Yeah!!" when the brothers poured it on at the end and left that dysfunctional duo in the considerable dust. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Fast Forward were done with the race and maybe even each other. Whatever happens to them relationshipwise, let's hope it's for the best. — Danny Spiegel


Marshall Flinkman (Kevin Weisman) had quite the full day. Let's see: He traveled to Cuba; turned some old radio parts into a tracking device; dug Sydney out of a fresh grave; performed CPR; infiltrated the headquarters of an enemy agent; shot the aforementioned bad guy; cut an eye out of its socket and even sang to his little baby Mitchell. Whew! So much for leaving the tech genius in the background all the time. Imagine the actor getting that script: "Hey, Kev, you'll be working triple the amount of time you normally do, all right, buddy?"

Well, if you were wavering on buying a cell phone with a strong signal and built-in camera, this most likely pushed you right over. Because, if, for instance, you're ever buried alive with some dude who was just shot in the head, it appears this trusty gadget might come in handy.

Lastly, for no apparent reason, I loved this exchange between Marshall and Jack as he was giving him pointers on the ideal eye-removal procedure:
Jack: "You're going to need a digging instrument to assist with this."
Marshall: (searching through the dead guy's desk) "Uh, I got a spork!"
Jack: "What's a spork?"
Marshall: "It's like a half-spoon, half-fork. Will that do?"
Jack: "That will work." — DS

Now that's the way to end a series premiere! Get your audience invested in a central character, wrap him in a web of intrigue and deceit and then, just before the final frame, you put a bullet in him — Bam! Fade to black. I love it. Nonetheless, I already miss Eric Mabius. His cocky playboy-P.I. persona was kinda cool. But no worries, this cast has more than enough talent to make up for his absence. I'm especially fond of Rick Worth, who earned a bump to the top of my Favorite New Actors list for that sweet showdown where he put the fear of god into a skinhead. Very cool.

As for Harlan, he may be a little too smug and too slick for his own good, but then again, so is the whole show. Not surprising really, considering exec producer John McNamara is the man who gave us 2002's slick but silly flash-in-the-pan Fastlane. Not sure why, exactly, but this offering is much better. Could have something to do with a cast of characters chock-full of tragic flaws. The boss is bankrupt, his top investigator is recovering from a breakdown, three members of his team are involved in an adulterous love triangle, and another is busy killing her colleagues to keep them from spilling the beans about her being in bed with the competition.

If they continue to balance the snappy dialogue with just a touch of danger, and don't get too precious, I'll lend Eyes my eyeballs once a week. Who knows, maybe I'll finally be able to forgive Tim Daly for that expensive and unfortunate flop, The Fugitive. — Daniel Roberts


Tru Calling
I'll be honest, I was not a Tru believer the first time the morgue-dwelling diva came around, seeing all those dead people and reliving their last day to stop fate. All I imagined was a "Touched by an Early Edition While Crossing Jordan," you know? Don't get me wrong, I love the Eliza Dushku. And casting Jason Priestley as her soul-er opposite was inspired. After all, who would ever peg Brandon Walsh to be the Angel of Doom? Brenda, sure. But B.? Well, that's just crafty. Anyway, I totally missed the boat on this one back then, but now that it's fittingly back from the beyond, I gotta admit, LOVING IT. It's so cool. And not just Dushku and her endless parade of low-riders. Or Priestley, who surprisingly knows his way around a bad guy and can banter with the best of them. No, there's something else going on here and it took me these two back-to-back episodes to figure it out: Tru's not actually a hero. Think about it. First, she rewinds the fatal drowning of a harbor patrol officer, then gets two chances to save a shrink from the business end of a Manson-eyed patient's silencer. In both cases, these do-over DOA's would have bought it when they were destined to if she hadn't been so sold on beating Jack and playing God. Nay, trumping God. And you don't need to have watched a certain tragic news story for the past month to know that nothing good can come from that kind of behavior. Hell, even Marty McFly had consequences to deal with after he fluxed around with the capacitor, or whatever that was on the back of his DeLorean. Thankfully, this is just TV, so all we have to deal with is Jack and Tru's increasingly complex life-vs.-death chess match and the fear that Fox will foolishly let this one die again before we find out which one of them wins. Which would make us all losers, really. — DJH