TiVo Time.

So, 2009 has been a very average movie year. I suppose we’ll have to rely on other award-winning forms of entertainment. Like "The Real Housewives of Pocatello, Idaho." Or Mel Gibson’s mistress bringing a brand new anti-Semite into the world.

On the other hand, you can relive the classic year of 2007 – and its most surprising movie: The Hammer – written by and starring one of my heroes, Adam Carolla.

It premieres on HBO late Tuesday/early Wednesday at midnight. I promise you’ll love this romantic comedy, so catch it. Then return to your regularly-scheduled cultural activities.

Follow The Loser.

I’m convinced the key to me surviving college was a self-taught perception trick: after finishing an essay exam, I’d remain in my seat before handing it in, waiting for the biggest moron in the class to hand in his. When he finished and walked up to the professor's desk, I’d beat him to the pile of blue books and make sure mine was underneath his. I figured, after reading through this idiot’s claptrap, my work must have read like the Iliad.

I pull the same move these days in casting workshops. I always step right up and perform after weak actors have botched their scenes.

The theory can work against you if you follow a talent, which is exactly what happened when I went to see a couple of comedians perform at a club the other night. One of their warm-ups was John Tole, the guy above. His jokes were smart and hilarious, and he killed. The two headliners followed him and bombed like hell. It was uglier than a Vassar glee club.

Feel free to apply my theory to all sorts of talent-centric situations. And If you’re an actor reading this, and suddenly realize that I’ve followed you in a workshop, my apologies – my apologies that you suck so damn bad. And my utmost thanks. Look for that Christmas card come December.

Kickass Sighting Of The Month Of A Novelty-Sized Pair Of Nads.

It isn’t every day you come across Mr. Testicles. More like the fourth Wednesday of every month.

I bumped into this fella outside the FOX studios, where he was very much interested in garnering the attention of Seth McFarlane. He told me in a British accent (naturally) that he was part of a charity aiming to increase awareness about prostate, testicular and bowel cancer. Over the weekend, he ran the LA Marathon in this getup, and finished in 6 hours, 26 minutes. Which is both way impressive, and oddly reminiscent of my nightmares during puberty.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Seth actually doesn’t work out of these studios, but much respect nonetheless, Giant Pair of Balls.

Festivus, Award Winner.

The 17th Festivus acceptance comes complete with an accolade: Jury Award for Best Short Film at the Charleston International Film Festival.

I’m not sure what materials are used to create Charleston’s film awards, but I’m hoping they’re the same stuff that make up their chews: luscious nougat covered in chocolate.

Today’s Beneficiary tidbit features prolific actor John Kapelos. If I weren’t already jealous enough of John’s resumé, he made me want to eat my liver when, as we shot at a state park north of L.A., John needed to get to an audition for “CSI: NY.” He patiently shot a scene for my film, then raced to a casting office in Hollywood and was back shooting his next scene for me within an hour. Later that day he found out he got the TV role.

John invited me to hang out with him on the set of CSI, and I had a great time. He had his own bungalow dressing room, and in between his takes – he was playing a lawyer – he taught me as much as he could about shooting TV shows.

As we make our way through this business, the majority of my actor friends and I may as well be gathering in a church basement for a support group, huddled around the cookies and the coffee urn, easing each other's frustration. Meanwhile, it’s nice to know one guy who’s a damn rock star.

Step It Up, Hollywood.

It doesn’t take much to entertain me: a Hi and Lois comic strip, guys with stupid barbed-wire tattoos, that trick where you put cigarettes out on your tongue.

But so far this year, I can’t name one movie I’d recommend. Plenty of overrated stuff, but no winners.

I realize many more films will open this summer, and the Oscar-contenders are often reserved for December, but at this rate, scrounging up a top-ten list at the end of this year will be damn near impossible

Maybe I’ve been spoiled by the last two years, which were arguably two of the top film years ever. Here are a handful of classics from ’07:

The Last King of Scotland
Zodiac
Superbad
3:10 to Yuma
Gone, Baby Gone
Michael Clayton
No Country For Old Men
There Will Be Blood
The Savages
The Hammer
The Lookout
Lars and the Real Girl
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Atonement
Eastern Promises
Juno

And from ’08:

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Slumdog Millionaire
The Wrestler
Milk
Tropic Thunder
The Bank Job
Iron Man
The Visitor
Bottle Shock
The Reader

Pictured above is the poster for Away We Go. It opens next Friday, and I’m hoping very much that it’s going to be this year’s Little Miss Sunshine/Juno. It has everything going for it: a great cast, led by John Krasinski from “The Office”, and director Sam Mendes, who hasn’t made a bad film yet (American Beauty, Road to Perdition, Jarhead and Revolutionary Road.)

Come through for me, Away We Go. Or I may have to become a cutter.

Mental Milestone.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. After 400 entries, I’d gather my crazy lies somewhere between the God Hates Fags people and Octomom.

My top five favorites from the last 100:

My Namesake. The dog eventually had to be given back. But he served his purpose by inspiring a blog entry. Grab a catcher’s mask and click here.

Changing A Diaper: My Own Private Viet Nam. This sums up my life so perfectly, it should be read aloud at my funeral. Grab a hazmat suit and click here.

Suffering For My Art. I sacrificed like hell, and all I had to show for it was a lousy cotton ball. Feel the lethargy here.

Festivus, Part XI. What could be more American than baseball and filmmaking? Plenty, since I seem to be bigger in France. Dig in here.

That’s A Wrap. My reign of terror was over. Let us never speak of it again – right after clicking here.

This Week In Tragedy.

Sunday night, an earthquake centered near me gave L.A. a good shake. Monday, a rap star was gunned down at the Beverly Center. Tuesday, another quake. And now for the bad news: L.A. Tigers is out of business.

Sure, I can drain a 40-oz. on Dolla’s grave, but where will I purchase him a nice leave-behind? Plus my mom’s birthday is coming up, and Petey is rather partial to top-notch stuffed animals.

Oh, the humanity.