So, it’s March 31 at 2:00 a.m. If you’re like me, you’ll be in your room, smelling like cigarette smoke and getting ready to spend the night in a cold, empty bed. If your name sounds like “Listin’ Pickles” you might be buying your eighth round and pre-agonizing about what you’re going to put on your Christmas card in December.

What you should be doing is setting your television recording device to Comedy Central, as the fine network will be bringing you four consecutive episodes of The Comedians of Comedy.

The Comedians of Comedy was a fine series that basically captured the lives of four comics (Patton Oswalt, Brian Posehn, Zach Galifianakis, and the always-lovely Maria Bamford) doing a tour up the eastern seaboard. It’s not a reality show per se. No toothy host, no voting out, no stunt casting — it’s just a bunch of mostly unknown comics (their biggest credits are bit parts in “Bubble Boy” and “Just Shoot Me”) being weird, intellectual and drunk.

Oswalt is the leader of the bunch. He self-professes to looking like a “little lesbian” and shares his shame for having a supporting role on “The King of Queens.”

Posehn is a god among comic book nerds and a giant among comics.

Galifianakis is the weirdest of the group, in that he has the largest disconnect from reality. An example of his schtick: “The other day I was walking along the Hollywood walk of fame and I stumbled across Tony Danza’s star… And I urinated on it yelling, ‘And who’s the boss now?!’”

Bamford is my personal favorite — using cartoonish voices to convey insecurity (“My therapist says I’m afraid of success. I guess I could understand that, because after all, fulfilling my potential would REALLY cut into my sitting-around time…”) and occasionally take down the comedy patriarchy.

Comedy Central kind of fucked this series over by airing each half-hour episode at 11 p.m. on Fridays. You could classify me as a pretty die-hard Bamford/Galifianakis fan, but even I wasn’t about to stay home/remain vigilant about taping each episode. So take this opportunity to watch ‘em all.

NOTE: I just checked the Web site and the shows will now be on Tuesday, April 4 at 2 a.m. So, that means set your VCRs on Monday night (for those of us stuck in the nineties).

We are truly flying through these episodes of Buffy, probably because I refuse to do anything but watch them. Season Two went down easily, a delightful cocktail of humor and tragedy and sassiness. I’m told this may be the best season. It’s a bit raw, and the bad guys are still surprising. Pretty much everyone found someone to smooch. A nice lady died. Many monsters met their match. And like all the best love stories, this one is DOOMED.

That doesn’t make any sense, you may be thinking — no one wants heartache and woe. But even though you think you want your favorite characters to get together, you really don’t. You’d rather see them tragically torn apart by situations outside of their control. Not even situations — you want to see them have to choose to leave each other or hurt each other or otherwise ruin everything because they have to. I am not making this up. Check your Romeo and Juliet. Or Brokeback Mountain. (Or Philip Pullman’s The Amber Spyglass, YA people.) Tragically DOOMED lovers make us feel sad in that special I-cried-SO-hard-at-that-movie-it-was-awesome type of way.

Oh sure, I was rooting for Luke and Lorelai and Josh and Donna and Veronica and Logan and all those other struggling couples-to-be. And I deeply rooted for Buffy and Angel, even though I knew exactly what was going to happen. (They would do it and he would lose his soul. Which… is pretty harsh. It may even be worse than getting preggers, but conveniently vamps can’t have babies. They don’t mention STDs, and personally I’d rather not think about the disease possibilities in someone who’s been dead hundreds of years and has sex regularly with other dead people. Ew. Maybe it’s best he just lost a soul.)

Of course, not all lovers are DOOMED. And that’s part of the fun of the second season, watching Willow and Xander find people to make out with. Not each other, naturally. That pairing is DOOMED before it even starts.

The other fun part was spotting the Hey! It’s That Guy!. For example, Wentworth Miller, the Prison Break dude, was a swimmer-slash-fish-mutant. John Hawkes, the mustachioed fellow from Me and You and Everyone We Know, was a poltergeisted janitor who shoots a teacher. Bianca Lawson, who you might (maybe) remember from Save the Last Dance as the super-bitch skank who tries to mess with the hero’s head, was Kendra, the second slayer. And more, I’m sure. Spot any?

And now I’m barreling on to Season Three, which features the new “Buffy” font in the opening credits! I have been waiting a long time for that font to show up. The old font was a little too Comic Sans for me to take seriously. And I’m sure there will be other delightful (non-typographical) surprises as well.