By Demian
With a firm little "tap-TAP!" of her gavel, Emma calls the latest meeting of McKinley High's Celibacy Club to order, and we're off! Since last we saw it, The Celibacy Club's fortunes have evidently fallen quite a bit, for the club's only two members nowadays are Quinn and Rachel, the latter of whom spent the entirety of last week's meeting "quizzing Quinn on the nature of her relationship with Finn," according to Miss Pillsbury's immaculately maintained minutes. "Questions somebody still refuses to answer," Rachel passive-aggressively murmurs from her seat at the exact opposite end of the otherwise cavernously empty room from Quinn, who for her part responds in turn, "And I will continue to refuse to answer them because they are none of your business!" All Quinn is willing to allow is that she rejoined The Celibacy Club to focus on herself, a claim Rachel quickly echoes, adding a petulant "Finn is Kryptonite!" for good measure. Rachel also adds that she's intent, now, on her songwriting, for as you'll recall, New Directions will probably be performing several original works at this year's Regionals competition. However, as that will be the unfortunate LTG's unfortunate cross to bear week, I'll not be dwelling on it here, and instead will focus in on Miss Pillsbury, who takes this opportunity to congratulate the girls on their newfound resolve like so: "I have to say I am very inspired that both of you are showing how celibacy is a viable option for teens who simply aren't ready for intimacy, and for those who are older and terrified of the hose monster." I'd argue that neither Quinn nor Rachel has ever showed anyone much of anything as far as celibacy is concerned up to this point on the show, but I'm pretty sure I'm meant to ignore that part of it all in favor of wondering where Emma's amusing "hose monster" comment will be leading us this evening. Just guessing.
In any event, while Quinn and Rachel shoot each other befuddled side-eyes over Miss Pillsbury's apparent overshare, the oblivious-seeming Emma blithely segues to her topic of conversation: The "club swag" she's designed that she believes is really going to catch on with the kids. She spins around a cunning little jewelry display form in the shape of a miniature dressmaker's dummy to reveal a silvery Valentine-themed lock-and-key set. The chain length on the key is short enough to ensure that said key nestles close to the dummy's heart, while the lock itself is perhaps not-so-coincidentally dangling all the way down where the dummy's hoo-hah should be. Very sly, Glee. Very sly. The plan -- and just go with it -- is to hand out the locks for free while withholding the keys. "That way," Miss Pillsbury reasons, "nobody can open the lock forever and, ladies, that's what keeps us safe!" Quinn smilingly nods her approval for whatever inexplicable reason, but Rachel's all addled over some questions she's been curious about for quite some time. "No, no, no!" Miss Pillsbury interrupts, somewhat manically adding, "Why be curious? No! Wait to have relations until you're comfortable, right?" "Maybe 'til your honeymoon -- maybe even later!" Miss Pillsbury all but raves, much to Rachel's fairly amusing discomfort. "Celibacy, ladies!" she concludes in a rousing cheer. "Dig it!" Title card.
By Demian
Several days later (I'm guessing), the camera finds a downcast Emma nibbling away on her assiduously polished grapes in the teachers' lounge while admitting to Will, "I'm just so disappointed." "Why?" Will wonders, adding, "I thought you wanted the chastity charms to catch on." "I did," Emma nods, "until I realized they were wearing the chastity charms as clip-on nipple rings." Will, strangely enough, has absolutely no reaction to that bit of news, and instead decides to gift Emma with a little pep-talk, assuring her that while "preaching abstinence is hard," he's seen first-hand the havoc an unplanned pregnancy can unleash upon a hapless teenager's life, and he therefore urges her to keep fighting the good fight. "And I'm happy," he promises her, "to do whatever I can to help make celibacy an option for these kids. "I don't know, hot stuff," a familiar voice calls out from the lounge's door, and the camera zooms up and over to focus in on the wry expression plastered across Gwyneth Paltrow's face as she continues in a sing-song tone of voice, "Sounds pretty laaaa-aaaaame!" "Holly!" Will exclaims, delighted to see her again. "What are you doing here?" "Subbing!" she happily chimes, crossing over for a friendly little hug. "The Health And Wellness teacher's out with a mad case of the herp!" she explains, adding in a mugging aside for the mortified Emma's apparent benefit, "Yikers!" Just between you and me, I kind of love Gwyneth Paltrow on this show. And that's making me question my sanity.
But that's neither here nor there, I suppose. At Will's enthusiastically offered invitation, Gwyneth joins them at their table, and not a moment passes before Emma primly establishes this evening's primary conflict by sniffing, "So, I'm curious why you don't think that celibacy is a valid choice for teenagers." "I think it's a valid choice," Gwyneth airily lies before revealing her true opinion on the matter like so: "I just don't think it's that realistic -- you know, it's like saying vegetarianism is an option for lions." Will heartily guffaws at Gwyneth's joke, because he is desperate to get laid. Emma glares at him, but remains silent as Gwyneth backs her joke up with a little anecdotal evidence culled from last January's midmonth news cycle. Seems "ninety high school girls in a Memphis school district" -- a Memphis school district that relied solely upon abstinence-only sex education, by the way -- "got pregnant within three months," and while Gwyneth allows that it is Tennessee they're talking about, here, they've got to "shake things up" at McKinley before it's too late, because "information is power." "By the way, Will," she adds reproachfully, "some of your Glee kids are the most clueless."
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By Demian
Smear back to that morning's sex education class. Standing before both a whiteboard that exhorts her students to "advocate for condom distribution" and a rainbow-bedecked poster featuring a jaunty little reservoir-tipped rubber rocking the hell out, Gwyneth chipperly lectures the children on the condom's many, many benefits before cheerily hoisting a cucumber into the air for an application demonstration. "Wait!" Finn dims from his seat somewhere in the middle of the class. "Cucumbers can give you AIDS?" "Seriously?" a freaked-out Mercedes bleats from hear desk nearby. "'Cause I just had one on my salad!"
Smear forward to the teachers' lounge, where Gwyneth insists, "We've got to educate these kids!" Emma vehemently disagrees -- go figure -- and makes the pitifully weak argument that educating teenagers about sex will "steal their innocence," as if any of those rotten brats are in possession of anything remotely resembling innocence by the time they hit high school. Which, you know, is pretty much the gist of Gwyneth's counterargument, only she name-checks the twin demons of Media Exposure and Internet Access because she somehow feels she has to, or something like that. This leads to the following increasingly unhinged rant from the increasingly unhinged Emma: "That doesn't make it okay, and it shouldn't change the message that they get from us which is this is serious stuff and is not for kids and is not for adults!" Will pops his eyebrows at Emma's surprising outburst while Emma herself fidgets in her chair, trying and failing to feign a mien of calm, collected rationality. Gwyneth steps into the middle of all the awkwardness to smooth things over by perking, "Ooo-kay! Well, I think that's a little naive!" And with that, she gracefully rises to excuse herself. "I'm off to have ka-raaaazy sex," she explains with a broad smile on her face, "because I'm ka-raaaazy informed about it!" Will and Emma gawp. "Kidding," Gwyneth assures them. Will laughs and laughs and laughs because he is still desperate to get laid while Emma simply shakes her batshit head around with barely concealed contempt.
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By Demian
Cut to the hall, where the producers pause to toss an entirely gratuitous plug at American Cheerleader magazine before the camera eventually pans down to kick-start this evening's subplots. First up are Brit-Brit and Santana Lopez, the latter of whom slinks on over to Brittany's locker with the following proposition: "How about you and I pop in some Sweet Valley High this evening and get our cuddle on?" Alas, while Brit-Brit would like nothing more than to "get [her] sweet lady-kisses on" with Santana, she hasn't been "feeling very sexy lately." And why is that, I'm sure I hear you ask? "I think I have a bun in the oven," Brittany whispers. Dun-dun-DUN! Santana's eyes widen in horror as Brittany continues, "Please don't tell anyone, okay? Especially Artie." "Yeah, sure!" Santana hastens to assure her as Brit-Brit vanishes down the hall. "Your secret's safe with..."
"...Ohmigod, Brittany's pregnant!" Santana immediately spits, turning from Brittany's locker to link arms with the just-arriving Single-T Tina for a power-walk of disbelief through the hall. "Brittany's pregnant!" Single-T Tina repeats, practically shouting the news into the just-passing Puck's face. "Only a matter of time!" Puck grins as he continues in the opposite direction, the just-appearing Lauren flipping her hair around to wonder, "For what?" "Brittany to get pregnant," Puck shrugs. "Congratulations!" Lauren sings to the just-materializing Artie, slapping him on the back for good measure. "For what?" Artie smiles, clearly expecting good news. "You didn't hear?" Lauren bellows as she and Puck continue on their way past hundreds of their fellow students. "Your girlfriend's preggo! You're gonna be a baby daddy!" The camera zips in to focus on Artie's sudden rictus of terror as the bell rings to boot us on over to...
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By Demian
...the music room, where Will enters to find poor Artie all but paralytic with dismay. "My life is over!" Artie moans at Mr. Schue's prompting. "How am I supposed to support a baby?" All eyes turn to Brit-Brit, who apologizes profusely for attempting to keep Artie in the dark about the whole thing before admitting, "I thought I could surprise you when it dropped him off." "I'm pretty sure it's a boy," she smiles confidently at the room. Puck, to his immense credit, furrows his brow and goes, "Um. Babies don't get dropped off." They do in Brittany's world, honey. "Three days ago," she delightedly explains, "a stork built its nest on top of my garage!" "I'm not stupid," she insists despite all evidence to the contrary. "It's obviously getting ready to bring me my baby." The various reaction shots of dumbfounded disbelief now ricocheting around the music room really do need to be seen to be believed, though I think my favorites come from Santana Lopez and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen. "And that's when I realized you were right," an equally dumbstruck Mr. Schue admits in voiceover shortly before the camera escorts us over to...
...the Health-And-Wellness Jazzercize class Gwyneth Paltrow's holding for her fellow faculty members? Yeah, sure, whatever. Besides, the class itself isn't as high up on the scale of total stupidity as those exercise togs are. Everybody -- with the notable exception of Will himself, of course -- looks like they just dropped out of one of those Morning Stretch videos from the 1980s that Saturday Night Live so memorably parodied when Drew Barrymore was hosting a few years ago. Gwyneth, in fact, is working both the metallic turquoise headband and the Chrissy Snow side ponytail which combined should be making me vomit until blood and bits of my stomach lining come shooting out of my nose but -- and God damn Gwyneth Paltrow straight to Hell for this -- I can't help but feel a little giggly at the sight of it. Anyway, the point of the dialogue peppering the scene that follows is this: Will now agrees that the children must be educated in matters carnal, but he's loath to risk "titillating" them in the process. Gwyneth proposes they "sneak in the sex education in a less provocative way," and to that end, she has Will agree to let her lead a Glee Club rehearsal. "The kids will think they're getting ready for Regionals," she insists, "but really, I'll slip a little lesson about how to avoid STDs." And speaking of STDs, how's Will's love life? Pretty bleak, as he all-too-readily admits with a sheepish yet seductive grin on his face, for he is even more desperate to get laid than he was before. "That's a waste of some fine man-butt," Gwyneth sagely opines, and with that, we're back to...
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By Demian
...the music room, where Mr. Schue's just scrawled the word "SEXY" across the whiteboard. "I really hope that's not one of the requirements for Regionals," Santana Lopez sighs, "because with Berry in those tights, we don't stand a chance." Point to Santana Lopez. Mr. Schue ignores Santana's cogent analysis of Rachel's dress sense (or lack thereof) to admit that this afternoon's lesson has little to do with Regionals and more to do with the fact that the children seem "lacking when it comes to understanding the intricacies of adult relationships." Rachel is already horrified. "Is this the appropriate forum for that?" she prudishly inquires, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Mr. Schue correctly points out that the Glee Club frequently attempted to resolve pressing issues through song in the past and, in keeping with that established precedent, he's invited Miss Holliday to lead that afternoon's rehearsal.
On cue, Gwyneth sashays through the door clad in skintight black leather from top to toe, and she wastes very little time getting down to business: "Sex," she lectures with a brilliant smile on her face, "is just like hugging, only wetter." This elicits a rather vociferous agreement from Artie that may or may not have been accompanied by a fist-bump. "Let's start with the basics," Gwyneth continues, marching over to Frankenteen, of whom she asks, "Is it true that you thought you got your girlfriend pregnant via hot tub?" "I have always been dubious," Finn warily claims. Heh. "And Brittany?" Gwyneth proceeds, turning on the erstwhile bit of cannon fodder in question. "You think that storks bring babies?" "I get my information from Woody Woodpecker cartoons," Brit-Brit admits. "Well, that's all gonna end right here, right now," Gwyneth vows, "because today, we are gonna get under the covers all together and get the diddy on the dirty!" Poor Gaylord looks deeply confused at Gwyneth's use of the word "diddy" in that sentence while randy Puck breathes, "I'm so turned on right now." "What about those of us who choose to remain celibate?" Rachel blares from way up in the cheap seats, clutching on to Quinn's arm for support. Quinn, for her part, vigorously shoves Rachel away. Hee. Just as Gwyneth reiterates her earlier point that celibates are "naive, and possibly frigid," though, Mr. Schue harrumphs that now would be the perfect time for Gwyneth's performance. This evening's special guest cheerfully agrees and begins the lesson proper like so: "Rule Number One -- every intimate encounter that you're ever gonna have in your life is gonna start with a touch."
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By Demian
With that, Gwyneth Paltrow turns to the assembled members of the McKinley High Jazz Ensemble and shouts, "Hit it!" immediately propelling herself into a full-throated and fully choreographed rendition of Joan Jett's "Do You Wanna Touch" that quickly has everyone in New Directions -- yes, even the two frigid naïfs up in the cheap seats -- prancing around the floor while whipping their hair. At one point, Brittany leaps atop Tinkles's piano to pull a Tawny Kitaen and, despite some initial misgivings, even Mr. Schue allows himself to bop along on the sidelines. What this is teaching any of them about sexual intercourse, I haven't the faintest idea, but I must admit, it is terribly fun to watch. And in the end, just when she's got the kiddies all pumped up, Gwyneth lays the following choice bit of science on their collective behind: "Just remember, whenever you have sex with someone, you're having sex with everyone they've ever had sex with. And everybody's got a random." Commercials.
The Lima Bean. Kurt and Dreamboat Blaine step into the frame to chit-chat about Joan Armatrading, but that's not important right now because what is important right now is the fact that none other than Sue Sylvester herself has sneaked up behind them to coo, "Well, if it isn't my sweet, sweet Porcelain!" Sue of course initially claims she's just there to pick up some coffee -- she prefers her "enemas piping hot," don't you know -- but she soon drops that flimsy bit of subterfuge to admit she's actually there in the "spirit of fellowship." Basically, she still longs to screw New Directions over at Regionals, and to that end, she proposes an alliance between Aural Intensity and The Dalton Academy Swallows to "out-sexy" McKinley High's Glee Club. No, it doesn't make any sense, and no, we won't be seeing anything remotely sexy from any of the groups in competition week, and no, Kurt would never agree to assist Sue Sylvester in any way in the first place, so just take this entire scenelet as an excuse to watch Jane Lynch dump ungodly amounts of Sweet'N Low and vanilla extract into her coffee cup, and smile. !
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By Demian
McKinley Teachers' Lounge. Emma storms in from the hall to lambaste Will over Gwyneth Paltrow's supposedly inappropriate lesson the afternoon, but Will quickly defuses the situation by suggesting Emma and The Celibacy Club present a counter to Gwyneth's presentation in song. Emma's instantly mollified and announces, "I look forward to the opportunity to nail her to the wall." Coach Beiste, who'd been sitting silently at Will's side through all this, nearly chokes on her chicken at that, and a mortified Emma's forced to splutter, "You know what I mean!" as she flounces back off from whence she came.
Hall. Mightily inspired by the afternoon's events, Lauren powers up to Puck to inform him that today is his lucky day. Lauren, you see, has been secretly lusting for Kardashian levels of fame her entire life and, with Gwyneth's help, she's realized that releasing a tape of her "intimate relations" with Puck can only serve to thrust her into the limelight, where both a television show and a fragrance to call her own are certain to await. "I'm not sure I got that last part right because I'm getting a little light-headed," Puck confesses as they link arms to saunter down the hallway, "but if we make one of those tapes, that means...." Puck stares down at Lauren's boobs. "Wow," Lauren eye-rolls. "If your lovemaking prowess is as impressive as your skills of deduction, I'm in for a wild night."
Meanwhile, over in an abandoned warehouse -- no, seriously -- Dreamboat Blaine stands before a rickety-looking set of platforms to welcome the young ladies of Dalton's sister school, Crawford Country Day, to a very special presentation by The Swallows. He'd gotten the idea from Sue to "sexify" The Swallows, you see, and to that end, he's invited the Crawford Country Day ladies to offer their critique of The Swallows' new routine. "Are we scream-worthy?" he asks them to determine. "Do we make your knees turn to jelly?" "Never in those asstastic uniforms of yours," the assembled ladies of Crawford Country Day do not reply, for they are merely glorified extras tasked with nothing more than adorning this evening's presentation with their chaste yet leggy loveliness. And with that, Blaine and The Swallows hop into a performance of something called "Animal" that was evidently written by a bunch of Mormons, and it will come as no surprise to regular viewers of Glee to learn that The Swallows are no sexier here than they ever were in any of their dorkadelic doo-woppy appearances on this show. Of course, it doesn't help that Kurt's apparent idea of "sexy" involves curling his fingers into claws while stomping out a furious Pony at Blaine's side, but all you really need to know about how debilitatingly unsexy the entire enterprise truly is can be summed up in two words: Foam party. Yes, Kurt and Blaine at one point turn a foam cannon loose upon both their Dalton brothers and their sisters from Crawford Country Day, and if you can think of anything more unsexy than a whirling scrum of polyester mixed with industrial-strength foam concentrate, I'd like to hear about it.
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By Demian
In any event, once it's over, Blaine approaches Kurt to inquire regarding the latter's brutally embarrassing performance style. "Are you okay?" Blaine bluntly opens. "You kept making those weird faces the whole song!" When Kurt attempts to explain that those were, in fact, his sexy faces, Blaine pffts, "It looks like you were having gas pains." Kurt promptly pitches a fit, bemoaning the utter dearth of Sexy in his life, and when he's done, Blaine assures him that they'll figure something out. After the commercial break, of course.
As Paul Carrack sings to us about his toothbrush in the background, the camera fades up on the interior of Santana's boudoir, where it finds both Santana and Brittany, immediately post-cuddle. "I want to talk to you about something," Brit-Brit hesitantly begins as Santana restyles her hair for her. "I really like when we make out, and stuff," she continues. Santana, ever the devious manipulator, leans down to prompt, "Which isn't cheating because...?" "The plumbing's different," Brittany answers like the good little student she apparently occasionally can be, and I've heard that line so many times from so many people in the past, I'm very nearly inclined to believe it's true. In any event, Brit-Brit's just a tiny bit disconcerted this afternoon, because when she and Artie get their cuddle on, they always talk about their feelings, which is something she and Santana never do. "With feelings," Brittany ventures, "it's better." "Are you kidding?" Santana squints, by now reapplying her lip gloss at the mirror. "It's better when it doesn't involve feelings," Santana maintains before clarifying her point of view on the subject by asserting, "I think it's better when it doesn't involve eye contact." Atta girl. "I don't know," Brittany shrugs, "I guess I don't know how I feel about us," and if Santana were true this evening to her prior characterization -- hell, if Santana were true this evening to what she just said -- this would be the point where she runs. Even though, you know, it is her own bedroom and everything. Whatever.
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By Demian
Anyway, Santana does not run, but instead attempts to level with Brit-Brit like so: "Look, let's be clear, here -- I'm not interested in any labels, unless it's on something I shoplift." Unfortunately, Brittany won't let it drop. "I think we should talk to somebody," she insists as forcefully as she can, by which I mean she's being her usual listless self about it all. "Like an adult," she suggests before concluding, "This relationship is really confusing for me." "Breakfast is confusing for you!" Santana points out. "Well," Brittany explains, "sometimes it's sweet, and sometimes it's salty, like, what if I have eggs for dinner -- then what is it?" Santana just stares at Brittany for a very long moment before turning back to her bed to adjust her rumpled duet.
Meanwhile, over in the McKinley library, Puck and Lauren have fired up Kim Kardashian's sex tape on Lauren's laptop so they might glean a few style pointers from an acknowledged master of the craft. And as they enthuse over Kim's luxurious Egyptian cotton linens, Gwyneth Paltrow wanders on over from points unknown to wonder what gives. Puck and Lauren give her the short version of the story, and while Gwyneth is most impressed indeed by their ambition, it is her sad duty to inform them that, should they carry through with their plan, they'd be guilty of producing child pornography. You know, because they're under eighteen. Stop laughing. No, seriously: Stop laughing -- Lauren and Puck are, like, totally fifteen years old, you guys!
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By Demian
In any event, Gwyneth counsels them not to fret. "These things never work out well," she assures them. "My sex tape with J. D. Salinger was a disaster." With that, Gwyneth turns to exit, only to run right into Santana and Brittany, the former of whom reluctantly admits, "We need your help."
Cut to the music room, where the three ladies sit cross-legged on the floor in what Gwyneth calls her "Sacred Sexy Sharing Circle" and, after thanking them for confiding in her, Gwyneth asks if either of the others thinks she's a lesbian. Brittany doesn't know -- go figure -- but Santana swears she's bisexual. Well, in so many words, at least. "We've all been there," Gwyneth shrugs, explaining that she went to "an all-girls college where the only industry in the town was the manufacturing of softball equipment." "I still feel a little tingle when I hear Ani DiFranco," she sighs, getting all wistful and such. Anyway, understanding the two have found it difficult to define their emotions for one another in the past, Gwyneth suggests -- of course -- that they select a song to "help [them] start a dialogue." Santana already has the perfect one in mind, natch, but there's one problem: "Brit and I may need your help to sing it." "I thought you'd never ask," Gwyneth purrs, and I kind of want to tell her to shut up for that, but I'll let it slide, because I still secretly harbor absolutely revolting amounts of goodwill towards her for her utterly engaging performance thus far this evening.
Das Hummelhaus. Dreamboat Blaine and Kurt have placed themselves in front of a mirror, and Blaine is patiently coaching Kurt through a series of Sex Faces. Of course, Kurt looks like a simpering dolt in each because, as it turns out, Kurt is absolutely terrified of his own sexuality. "I've tried watching those movies," he exasperates, "but I just get horribly depressed, and I think about how they were all kids once and how they all have mothers and God, what would their mothers think, and why would you get that tattoo there?" Hee. That's the first honestly funny line Kurt's had in months. Blaine casually suggests they talk it through, but Kurt gets all fluttery and mortified and embarrassed, and he rather rudely kicks Blaine out of his house. Remind me again why I'm supposed to be rooting for these two as a couple? They should bring back Jonathan Groff and have Dreamboat Blaine make out with him.
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By Demian
Wow. Completely forgot about this scene. Will's enlisted Gwyneth Paltrow's aid to transform Prince's "Kiss" into a tango, and after a few preliminaries in the music room with the ever-mute members of the McKinley High Jazz Ensemble, we shoot over to an elaborate fantasy sequence on the auditorium stage, where Will and Gwyneth -- accompanied by three or four other couples -- run through Prince's "Kiss" as a tango. I'm not crazy about it. Setting aside the fact that "Kiss" is far from my favorite Prince song, if there's one style of dance that cries out for lengthy, steady, full-body shots of the performers involved, it's the tango, and the jittery, jumpy, chopped-up shots they produced for this sequence just aren't cutting it for me. Of course, I am well aware that they likely chose those jittery, jumpy, chopped-up shots to mask the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow can't dance for shit, but still: Get Gwyneth a passable body double, or don't bother doing the number in the first place. And aside from that, all of the supporting couples -- in this episode, where the two major subplots feature hot-and-heavy boy-on-boy and girl-on-girl action -- are opposite-sex. Just saying, it would have been nice to have some same-sex pairings twirling away in the background. Yeah, I know it's Will and Gwyneth's fantasy we're watching, here, and their collective subconscious likely wouldn't conjure up a pair like these two when they're trying so desperately to get into each other's entirely heterosexual pants, but if we go down that path and assume that level of realism in this fantasy sequence, then we'd expect Gwynnie to know how to frigging dance in her own dream ballet, am I right?
Anyway, when it's over, we snap back to the music room to find Will and Gwyneth hiking their tongues down each other's throats right there in front of the McKinley High Jazz Ensemble, who I would assume have been struck dumb by the wholly inappropriate display now unfolding in front of their horrified eyes were it not for the fact that they've never talked in the first place. Long story short, Will pleads for Gwyneth to give him some, but she pushes him away because he's too sweet and innocent, or something like that. Commercials.
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By Demian
Hummel Tires And Lube. Well, that's what the banner says, at any rate. Dreamboat Blaine bumbles his way across the shop floor and basically guilts Burt Hummel into having The Talk with his son. It's an incredibly stupid way to set up the conversation that follows -- I mean, why on earth would Burt Hummel accept parenting advice from this a cappella bozo who's less than half his age when there's a perfectly good PFLAG chapter right there in town? -- but the payoff is one of the best father and son scenes they've ever aired on this show, so again: I'm letting it slide.
Music Room. With very little fanfare -- actually, with no fanfare at all -- Santana, Gwyneth, and Brittany throw themselves into their version of Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide," and quite honestly, the song itself is almost beside the point. I mean, it's beautifully done -- surprisingly so, considering the fact that Gwyneth's handling an overwhelming majority of the singing -- but the central focus of the scene is on Santana and how she's using the song as a means to show Brittany how she really feels. Had I a heart, it would be breaking right about now, and I am once again astounded at how perfect Naya Rivera is in this role. I mean, once upon a time -- way back during the pilot -- she was more or less a snotty-faced extra sneering down at the Glee Club losers, nothing more than one of Sue Sylvester's minions, and look at what she's done with it all since then. Brava.
Yes, I have a crush. Shut up. I've always had a crush on Santana Lopez, so there.
Santana, momentarily overcome, wipes away a few tears as the others applaud, and Brittany shyly wonders, "Is that how you really feel?" "Yeah," Santana nods, and she rises from her stool to give Brit-Brit a hug. "Pretty cool that our girlfriends are such good friends," an utterly clueless Lady Lips whispers to Artie. "Wish that you and I were that close." Artie's reaction shot is priceless, but we haven't time to linger on it, because we must focus instead on Rachel as she calls out, "Can I just applaud this trio for exploring the uncharted world of Sapphic charm?" She means well, poor thing, but her praise is so tone-deaf and horribly phrased that Santana has little choice but reaffix her armor and snipe, "Look, just because I sang a song with Brittany? Doesn't mean that you can put a label on me. Is that clear?" Rachel's smile falters as Santana breaks abruptly away from Brit-Brit's side to join Lady Lips on the risers, and with that, we cut over to...
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By Demian
...The Celibacy Club, where Miss Pillsbury's welcoming the club's newest member, Puck. "Are you lost, Noah?" Rachel ices. "You don't belong here," Quinn condescendingly agrees, noting he's "the biggest French whore of them all." Puck blathers something about how his abortive sex tape changed his life, but it doesn't really matter, because Miss Pillsbury's now taking this opportunity to inform them all of their impending Glee Club performance. Puck's down with that, but he does call a point of order to state, "While three chicks and me is just a typical Saturday night in the Puckerman bedroom, it's not the best balance for singing -- we need at least one more dude." Miss Pillsbury's got that covered.
Auditorium, and this is just beautifully, brilliantly ridiculous. Up on the stage, in front of a triple screen featuring lovingly rendered photographs of cherry pies, The Celibacy Club plus Miss Pillsbury's husband, Hot Carl, perform a terrifically wrongheaded version of Starland Vocal Band's "Afternoon Delight," much to the snickering amusement of just about everybody in the audience save Artie, who's appears to be gobsmacked by the sheer idiocy of it all, and Brittany, who's too busy grooving out in her chair to notice anything untoward about the performance. I think what kills me the most about it -- aside from the slices of meat pie that briefly replace the cherries on the backdrop, of course -- are the perfectly awful floral-print maxi-skirts on Miss Pillsbury and the girls, probably because I'm old enough to remember people wearing them unironically the first time around. Hateful. Beautifully, brilliantly hateful.
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By Demian
"I'm a little confused," Gwyneth calls out from the audience once the song's over, and it goes without saying that she's not really confused at all. "Isn't this a strange song for The Celibacy Club to sing?" she delicately inquires. "But why?" Emma breathlessly replies, still riding a giddy high. "It's so wholesome!" "It's about sneaking out for a nooner," Gwyneth emphasizes. "Yes, exactly!" Emma enthuses, adding, "A nooner's when you have dessert in the middle of the day, right, Carl?" [Clearly Emma never watched Arrested Development. - Angel] Hot Carl, who now stands wearily at his batshit wife's side, offers Will and Gwyneth a very bleak look, indeed, before leaping from the stage to beg Gwyneth for a professional consult. Commercials.
Das Hummelhaus. Burt slaps a set of pamphlets down on the kitchen table, and when Kurt wonders what gives, Burt explains he obtained the pamphlets from the free clinic, because it is time for him and Kurt to have The Talk. Kurt immediately plugs his fingers in his ears and starts shrieking, "La-la-la-la-la-la-la!" but Burt will not be put off this time around, and he propels Kurt into the dining room, all the while gently hollering -- if that is at all possible -- "You think this is easy for me? Believe me, I wanna do this even less than you do -- this is gonna suck for both of us, but we're gonna get through it together, and we will both be better men because of it." Defenseless against this onslaught of paternal concern, Kurt nevertheless takes a regal if silent moment to indicate his utter disgust with the proceedings about to commence, then sits. Burt opens by passing the pamphlets over to Kurt, informing him he'll find details of the "mechanics" involved therein, and he orders Kurt to read each and every one before returning to his father with any questions he might have. "Okay!" Kurt blurts, and he makes to flee to his bedroom, but Burt affably informs him they're just getting started. And while I feel no need to transcribe Burt's subsequent monologue word for word -- to be terribly reductive about it all, he basically confirms that all men are pigs when it comes to sex, which is true -- it is so artfully delivered by Mike O'Malley, and it is so very much what every gay teenager needs to have drilled into his head on the subject, that I almost feel guilty about not typing the whole thing out for you lovely people. Good thing the entire scene'll be all over YouTube by the time this recap's published.
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By Demian
The kicker, though, comes at the very end, when Burt tells Kurt the following: "When you're ready, I want you to be able to do everything, but when you're ready, I want you to use it as a way to connect to another person. Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter, 'cause you matter." And now you'll have to excuse me for a moment, because I think I have something in my eye.
There. That's better. Now, where the hell was I? Oh, yes: By the time I've gotten that goddamned thing out of my eye, we've shot back over to McKinley High. Emma and Hot Carl have arrived for their counseling session with Gwyneth Paltrow, and it's a bigger disaster than that sex tape with J. D. Salinger. Long story short, Emma and Hot Carl got married four months ago, but they still haven't done the deed. "Okay, look," Gwyneth levels with them, "I am not a doctor -- I don't even like doctor TV shows, unless it's one of the ones where people strap bombs to their chest -- so, I would like to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it very seriously: Are you still in love with Will Schuester?" Emma's silence speaks volumes, so Hot Carl quietly informs Emma she'll have free run of their condo while he takes a room at the Radisson. And, after he leaves, a shattered Emma asks of Gwyneth, "Will you please -- please -- not tell Will about this?" "Of course not," Gwyneth assures her. "My lips are sealed." Pause. "Just like your legs." "Oooh!" Gwyneth hoots. "Kidding! God, that was rude! Why did I say that? See, a real doctor would never have said that." It absolutely terrifies me how much I'm liking Gwyneth Paltrow at this moment.
Hall. Wearing much the same thing she did when she so commandingly laid it on the line for Lady Lips a couple of episodes ago, Santana nervously approaches Brittany's locker and, after a couple of awkward hellos, she thanks Brittany for performing "Landslide" with her in Glee Club. "It made me do a lot of thinking," she quietly confesses. "And what I realized," she continues, visibly struggling a bit to get the words out, "is why I'm such a bitch all the time." Oh, I don't think I like where this is going. "I'm a bitch because I'm angry," Santana states, and oh, sweetie, no. No, no, no, no, no. You're a bitch because you're fabulous, and don't you dare ever forget it. Unfortunately, she's not listening to me at the moment, and she presses forward with her current misguided line of thinking like so: "I'm angry because I have all of these feelings -- feelings for you -- that I'm afraid of dealing with because I'm afraid of dealing with the consequences." "And I can't go to an Indigo Girls concert," she adds, shuddering at the thought. "I just can't." "I understand that," Brit-Brit helpfully nods. Heh.
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By Demian
Santana takes a moment, then continues, "I want to be with you, but I'm afraid of the talk, and the looks -- I mean, you know what happened to Kurt at this school." "But honey," Brittany beams, "if anybody were to ever make fun of you, you would either kick their ass, or slash them with your vicious, vicious words!" "Yeah, I know," Santana agrees -- because hey, it's true -- but she then breaks into tears as she adds, "but I'm so afraid of what everyone will say behind my back, but still I have to accept that I love you." There's a beautiful moment during those last three words where Santana temporarily breaks eye contact with Brittany and shrugs like it's no big deal, when everyone watching her knows it's the biggest deal of her young little life, and did I mention that I have the hugest crush on Naya Rivera? Because I do. Maybe I'm a lesbian, too.
"I love you," Santana repeats, with more conviction this time even though she's still crying, "and I don't wanna be with Sam or Finn or any of those other guys -- I just want you!" Brittany remains silent, so Santana hitches a sob and begs, "Please say you love me back." Brittany does -- of course she does, she stresses -- but she loves Artie, too, and she can't break up with him, because that would be wrong. "But he's just a stupid boy!" Santana protests, and once again, had I a heart, it would be breaking right about now. "Wow," she sarcastically continues through her tears when she realizes Brittany won't be changing her mind anytime soon, "whoever thought that being fluid meant you could be so stuck?" Good one, Santana, but I think it was wasted on dim little Brit-Brit, there. Brittany attempts to draw Santana in for an embrace, but Santana -- poor, frustrated, humiliated Santana -- pushes her away with a curt, "Get off me!" and with that, she spins off into this evening's final commercial break.
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By Demian
Dude, there are still four minutes left? They should have ended this episode right there, because once again, nothing that follows this evening can ever hope to surpass the fabulousness we've just been so privileged to witness, and it's all thanks -- once again -- to Miss Santana Lopez.
So: Hall. Lauren and Puck have a conversation that pretty much doesn't matter because by the end of it, they're macking on each other anyway. !
Celibacy Club. While Miss Pillsbury is absent -- choosing to use the hour she would have spent at the meeting to instead "fix her sham of a marriage," as Rachel puts it -- the club itself has greatly expanded its membership over the last couple of days, and now includes everyone from New Directions with the notable exceptions of Finn, Mercedes, Single-T Tina, and Gaylord. Guess Finn's been throwing some raging fourways at Das Hummelhaus while Burt and Carole are at work.
Or not, as the case may be, as we learn when we delve into Quinn's troubled mind for a smearback to one of the nooners she's secretly been having with Finn. Is anyone surprised by this development? Didn't think so. !
Auditorium. Will's rehearsing some "Finn-proof" dance moves for the kiddies when Gwyneth enters to announce she's transferring to Shawnee Township to cover the algebra classes there, as McKinley received more than a few complaints regarding her unorthodox teaching methods. "Apparently," she sighs, "my cucumber demonstration made it impossible to watch Veggie Tales the same way ever again." Gwyneth then surprises both Will and the audience at large when she expresses a desire to pursue a relationship with him, and does anyone think Gwyneth Paltrow's really going to become a series regular on this show? Didn't think so. !
Ooops. That's it, actually. week, LTG will be here to guide you all through Regionals. Let's hope for his sake that those original songs don't suck.
Demian's feeling incredibly disoriented, because he didn't hate this episode at all. You may send kind notes of soothing reassurance to him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.
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