Still no TV, and I often have to kick-start some of these streaming viewers that the networks run, but nothing will keep me from vegging out in front of the TV in one form or another:

Pushing Daisies: I can see why the sunny palette, fairy-tale situations, and adorable characters might grate with some people, but I love this show more with each episode. And when it does get overly cute, Chi McBride’s cynical P.I. helps out by rolling his eyes and saying something sarcastic before the audience gets the chance.

30 Rock: It occasionally veers dangerously close to enthusiasm-curbing cringe humor, but most of the time, this show is the closest thing to Arrested Development this side of cancellation.

My Name is Earl: It always seems like it’s being directed and edited to come off as fast and frantic, but I end up feeling sort of relaxed and mellow after watching it.

Samantha Who?: Christina Applegate was born to be on sitcoms, and I mean that as a compliment. The writing on this one feels not-so-good, though. Just not clicking for me.

Moonlight: It’s got Madame du Pompadour from Doctor Who, Logan from Veronica Mars, and Marshall from Alias. And yet it still can’t find anything new to offer the vampire detective genre. (How is “vampire detective” a genre, anyway?) Still, I feel an unhealthy compulsion to watch more of it. If it gives in to its light side, it could supplant Bones as my guilty pleasure.

Big Shots: Even the prettiness of Michael Vartan and Dylan McDermott can’t save this show, which combines the smug unlikability of an older-skewing Entourage with the strained hijinks of a boy-oriented Desperate Housewives.