I don’t know. Maybe there’s something in the air? It’s a guys-rolling-around-in-their-underpants videos kind of a week, I think. Yesterday, it was my boyfriend Ruslan. Today, it’s “Twilight” star Kellan Lutz. Frankly, I don’t know about his acting chops, but his ability to look good in his undies is Academy Award-winning. Suffice to say, Kellan is the 21st century’s Mark Wahlberg, but without the Boston accent. According to the man in the manties, Calvin Klein’s X underwear is “straight-up comfortable” and “holds you together.” And what, pray tell, does he mean by that? Since I don’t wear briefs, I could not tell you. It keeps your zucchini with your kiwis? It makes your butt cheeks tight? Who knows! I’ll believe whatever this buthisface tells me. [The Cut]

When Feb. 14 looms over us like the grim specter of Death itself, men react in a rational way: We do everything that we possibly can to find someone to date us as soon as possible. Regardless of whether we like, dislike, or want to kill a person, we’ll go out with her rather than spend Valentine’s Day alone.

Sure, most of us are aware that it’s a corporate holiday designed to sap money from consumer pockets into the pockets of the greeting card, flower, and pornography industries. However, its secondary function is to make a good half of society feel lonely and depressed for not joining in. Guys are hit pretty hard. Here’s how our average Valentine’s Day goes when we’re single ...

Playgirl went completely digital last month, but (un)fortunately, they geared up the printing presses recently for an issue with Levi Johnston on the cover. However, you still don’t get to see what enticed Bristol Palin so many months ago. [Dlisted]

Yes, that is James McAvoy—the hot Scotsman from “Atonement” and “Wanted”—not some random homeless hipster on the cover of Nylon Guys. Do we approve of this beard?

One of the best parts of my college experience at NYU was sampling from the buffet of dudes on campus. It seemed like eligible men were lurking behind every dorm room door, in every lecture hall, and at every bump-and-grind dance party. College life was rife with men, whether they ended up becoming friends or more. There were certainly enough to go around. Apparently, this is not the case for the new generation of college ladies. According to The New York Times, women are totally outnumbering men on campus. The stats say that female enrollment is up to about 57 percent at most major universities (except the Ivys, where men still outnumber women) since the 2000s. So what does that mean for collegiate dating life? It means it’s in crisis.

Maybe you have a case of the Mondays? Not me! Meet my new boyfriend. His name is Ruslan, and he is hot. I don’t know anything about him other than that. Anyway, when I woke up this morning, there he was, in my bed. It was like something out of a dream. And yet it seemed so real. So, he rolled around in his Alexis Mabille underpants while I made this video of him. I thought I’d share it with the rest of you poor, less fortunate souls. Jealous? Yes, yes you are. I’ll tell him you said hello. (Not.) [Fashin]

VITAL STATS
Born: October 11,1977 in Spring, Texas
Sun Sign: Libra
Ascendant: unknown
Moon: Libra
Mercury: Libra
Venus: Virgo
Mars: Cancer

Justin Timberlake needed an awfully big slab of cardboard when he sang “Dick In A Box” on “SNL.” But here he is, sans recyclable paper products, showing you what he’s working with. That’s right, nothin’ but pants and a boner, in slow motion. You’ll be screaming “Tiiiimmmmber!” because it’s straight-up wood. Just like we promised back when we reported on “Rock Star Penis Size,” feast your eyes on just how JT can stick the sexy in your back. [WOW Report]

This Sunday is the Academy Awards of Football and, believe it or not, there are a lot of people who couldn’t care less about this High Holy Day. But if you’re dating a pigskin junkie, you have very little choice: You’re going to be dragged to a get-together where jerseys and body paint are the fashion. Normally, I don’t get wildly excited about football, but this year is a little different for me. I usually just inhale nachos until the Halftime Show, then return to carbo-grazing. Occasionally, I’ll look at the score, or ask if anything is broken.

But for those women (and men) who dread an entire day dedicated to cheering human freight trucks slathered in spandex, please consider that Super Bowl Sunday is a day when you are allowed to eat with your fingers, wear fat pants out, and not actually have to talk to anyone. Just grunt. These are positives. Just show up and do your best dinosaur impersonation.