The only reason for you not to know that the NCAA basketball tournament started yesterday is if you woke up from a coma this morning. And even then -- you didn't ask for a USA Today? America is in the grip of March Madness, so for those of us who didn't use Howcast's advice, above, to fill out a bracket because we don't care about sports, this can be a lonely time. Fortunately, the internet has stepped in to offer alternatives. See a few after the jump.

New Yorkers always try to play like they're so hard, but let a little snow fall on the ground and they knit fingerless hobo gloves and slice open Tauntauns to survive. The whole city shuts down; kids pelt each other with dirty snowballs while all the powder turns to sooty, salty brown slush. L.A. is laughing at you, New York City. Laughing. It's a little over the top. But since everyone is freaking out, after the jump are 11 ways to survive Snowpocalypse '10.

A British study released a startling finding: every hour per day you spend on your arse in front of the telly increases your risk of DYING from heart disease by 18%. For example, if you spend roughly an hour parked on the sofa every day, then you have and 18% chance of keeling over from a faulty ticker; two hours per day, and your chances jump to 36%. And get this -- it doesn't matter if you're skinny or fat. So that means abstaining from Tostitos hasn't even been worth it!

For those of us who watch TV for a living, this is particularly discouraging news. Sure, there are times when it seems that "Cougar Town" is killing me slowly and painfully, and I know my heart skipped a beat or two during "Toddlers and Tiaras" (just kidding...sort of). But knowing that a future coronary is seeping through my couch cushions into my sedentary butt is a tad alarming, and thus, I've brainstormed some imaginative ways you can avoid (or at least postpone) a comfortable, lazy death in your living room (after the jump).

Here's a tip for your next blind date: Do NOT meet at an airport bar when you are not flying anywhere. Here's one more tip: Do NOT give her a full-body MRI and tell her she has a great oven. That's classic Bad Idea Jeans.

Blind dates are such easy targets for television and movies. In fact, there was even a show devoted to them. It was called "Blind Date." Clever, right?

Modern love is pretty tough, so click "continue reading" for some expert advice to help guide you through it.

Above, Howcast offers a step-by-step guide to getting your teenaged son or daughter to start bathing regularly. Now, this is a noble effort to solve one of the biggest problems of our time, surely, but Howcast's strategy is basically a guilt trip. And, no matter how pleasant you make them sound, parents guilt tripping their kids NEVER works. Bottom line, adults: If you follow the steps above, your kid will probably still be his or her school's smelly kid. Your worst nightmare, realized.

But don't fret. I, as a 15-year-old boy (in maturity, anyway), have three other time-honored methods to get your kids to stop smelling like feet. Hit "continue reading": they're after the jump.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve (info on how to make your own party glasses is above -- we're in a recession, dammit!), and we're still throwing pieces of 2009 at each other like clumps of mud. I know, it's enough already. I remember what happened this past year, and you do too -- it's not like we forgot that Nadya Suleman had those eight babies or that Barack Obama got a dog. And yet, we've become mothers who make lists for their lists!

A lot went down this year, which means these commemorative lists are long. And even though they're enjoyable, they take a fair amount of time to enjoy. That being said, hit "continue reading" to witness DJ Earworm's utterly stunning creation, entitled "Blame it on the Pop." In a masterful four minutes and forty-six seconds, Mr. Earworm takes Billboard's top 25 songs of 2009 and blends them together to create something as sweet and satisfying as a PB and J (with the crust cut off, if you're into that). It's unthinkably good, and it's bound to be at every NYE party tomorrow, so it'd be wise to spend today introducing yourself to the greatest groove ever. Girl Talk, (lyrics NSFW) you know I love you, but you really missed the bandwagon on this one.

There is never a time when TV cameras aren't zooming in on the Moron of the Day, who is sweating his way through a a scripted, fumbling, cowardly apology. It's pretty awesome, especially when he screws it up, which is almost always. The latest "I'm sorry" loser just issued a ridiculous mea culpa to the lovely Susan Boyle. In essence, he said this:

Dear Susan Boyle,

I am sorry that when I said you looked "starved of oxygen at birth" and that you are "in fact retarded" that "some people took what I said in a way that I never intended."

Deepest, sincerest apologies and kisses,
Paul Henry

Sorry, but that's not even close to an "I'm sorry." In what way, exactly, was this quote take wrong? "If you look at her carefully, you can make it out," the talk show host said. "Here's the really interesting revelation: she is in fact retarded."

Even if it is as hard for you to says sorry as it is for Peter Cetera, the following advice and techniques can pull you through whatever dastardly caper you just got caught in. And I'm sorry for the early '80s reference. Hold me now -- and click "continue reading."

Today was a normal day, but it is now an extraordinary day, thanks to the tip we just received from reader Sam Bartlett. Sam, it appears, moonlights as an egg nog stuntman. And, since it's the holiday season, Sam's working overtime. Sam, you see, is also a problem solver.

Have you, dear reader, even wanted to make your own egg nog but not known that you could? (Howcast's tutorial can help, above.) Or, have you ever wanted some creamy holiday cheer, but not had a free hand for your 'nog cup? Friends, Sam's here to help:

It's not what you thought, is it?! Happy holidays, everybody, and thank you, Sam for this tremendous, tremendous gift.

[If you've got a great tip, or video of your own you think we might like, send it to us!]

I'll take a big risk and admit that I prefer many, many things over infants. But rather than list off the inanimate objects and animals I enjoy more than newborns, I'm going to stop because it would make you want to report me to some authority figure. To give you an idea of the kind of distaste I'm talking about, I'll reveal that I prefer toe socks and baby clothes (like the ones modeled above) over actual babies.

Even though my aversion is strong and odd for someone of my sex, I still plan on beelining it to the theater to see "Babies: The Documentary." If the bluntness of the title isn't enough to make you want to see it (even though it should), its worthwhile trailer is after the jump. "Babies" is about exactly what you think it's about -- the first years of life of four drooling, pooping, needy, snotty, hungry, loud babies, born in different places (Mongolia, Japan, Namibia, and San Francisco). Any anthropologist will say that this documentary is a brilliantly modern cultural study of human development. But that's not why I'm going to see it (I hated anthropology in college, too). I'm getting tickets because even though it's going to highlight every reason I prefer to have my hands in my pockets rather than holding a baby, I have to see the moment a baby learns why sitting in a ram's water dish is a bad idea.

Even if you follow all of Howcast's instructions on how to get your wedding announcement in the paper (above), you still might not get to see your name in print. But there's an even better way to let the world know you've legally roped in your own Mr. or Mrs. Right. I'd like to introduce you to Dana "@TheSoftwareJedi" Hanna and Tracy Page. After they exchanged vows and rings at their wedding, they announced the moment they tied the knot in the most modern way possible for everyone who wasn't at the ceremony. Unfortunately, in doing so, the traditional and triumphant newlywed kiss had to take the backseat, but it was worth it. Click "continue reading" to see how Dana and Tracy went the extra mile to ring in their union, and the Reverend's utterly hilarious reaction.