Glee TV Show - Duets - Glee Recaps, Glee Reviews, Glee Episodes | TWoP

Recapped by Demian · Aired 2010-10-12

In any event, Mr. Schue needlessly defines the whole concept of this week's performance theme for the Brittanys and Frankenteens of the audience. Cleverly enough, while Mr. Schue's rambling on like that, the camera slides over to Kurt, who hisses for Mercedes's attention, nods his head in the new kid's direction, and announces, "He's on Team Gay -- no straight boy does his hair to look like Linda Evangelista circa 1993." Mercedes assures Kurt that he's insane, and we refocus our attention on Mr. Schue just as he announces that the children must -- wait for it -- pair off and perform a duet. As an added incentive, however, he's making this week's assignment a competition, with the winners receiving dinner for two, on him, at BreadstiX. The children immediately flip out and start babbling at each other, for as we all know, no teenager in Lima, Ohio, can resist the siren call of BreadstiX. Well, except for Kurt, of course, who merely trains his canny, gimlet eye on Weenie Von Bieberhausen as chaos erupts around them, and he quietly makes plans to get into Sam's pants just as the title card arrives to obliterate him from the screen.

Out in the hall, Sam busily shoves a couple of textbooks into his locker until Kurt and his ludicrous long-sleeved, button-down plaid shirt with studded epaulets and cuffs magically materialize at Sam's side to introduce themselves, and once that's over with, Kurt loiters with a conspiratorial smirk on his face until Sam finally goes, "What?" "Just tell me," Kurt prods. Sam stares dumbly at him, so Kurt finally cuts it with the coy crap and gets down to business: "Maybe at your old school you could get away with the whole I-Just-Stayed-In-The-Sun-All-Summer excuse, but I have three gifts -- my voice, my ability to spot trends in men's fashion, and my ability to know when it comes from a bottle." At that, he lifts his eyes from Sam's to stare pointedly at Weenie Von Bieberhausen's asinine coif. "I don't dye my hair, dude," Sam replies. "Yes, you do," Kurt insists. "That's not natural." Truer words, my friends. "I'm gonna go," Sam eventually announces, "'cause you're kinda freakin' me out." Kurt hastens to apologize for his supposedly off instincts, and oh, my holy Christ, he's got a fox tail clipped to one of his belt loops. Is that a thing, now? Wait -- don't answer that. God, hipsters suck.

By Demian

ANY-way, Kurt chases after Sam to propose they team up for the duets competition. Heterocentric Sam states he was under the impression that duets had to be coed, which leads Kurt to respond that "Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor would protest" that particular notion, right before Kurt stupidly misidentifies "Make 'Em Laugh" as one of Kelly and O'Connor's duets in that particular movie, and shut up, Kurt, before we take your card away from you. Heterocentric Sam hasn't the faintest idea what Kurt's going on about, so Kurt just assures him they've got it in the bag, and darts off after ordering Sam to give him a call to set up some rehearsal time. If you know what Kurt means, and I think you do. As he exits, Kurt sweeps past Finn, who shoots a couple of suspicious side-eyes at both Kurt and Weenie Von Bieberhausen before vanishing out the side of the frame himself.

Brittany's Boudoir. The camera tracks past a number of framed photographs featuring the lady of the boudoir herself in younger days, then starts climbing up two pairs of lady-legs entwined on the bed, and I've a feeling that if Jewfro's disgusting antics two weeks ago didn't get my parents to switch this show off forever, the sight of Brittany and Santana getting their mack on probably will. In any event, while Santana busies herself planting "sweet lady kisses" on Brittany's neck, Brit-Brit suggests they perform Melissa Etheridge's "Come To My Window" for the duets competition. The implications of that slowly sink into Santana's skull, and she then abruptly pulls away to perch on the edge of Brittany's bed, all haughty and offended and such. "I'm not making out with you because I'm in love with you and want to sing about making lady-babies," Santana insists. "I'm only here because Puck's been in the slammer for about twelve hours now, and I'm like a lizard: I need something warm beneath me, or I can't digest my food." Brittany, with a wave of sudden melancholy crashing over her dim little head, quietly wonders who Santana intends to sing with, then.

By Demian

...shunted over to the music room, where Rachel, Finn, Tinkles, and about forty-five members of McKinley's orchestra and jazz ensemble have assembled so Finn and Rachel might rehearse their entry in the Glee Club's duets competition, and I'm sorry, but these two dolts shrieking "Wooooo-hoo! Nobody knooooows it!" is like Torquemada himself returning from Hell to shove a pear of anguish into my ear canal and start spinning. Tinkles is so totally done with them as well, if that icily irritated glare he tosses in Rachel's general direction is anything to go by. Granted, she brought it upon herself by mussing with his hair while twirling around the piano, but still. Revel in the hate, Tinkles. And when it's all over, Finn realizes, "We're totally going to win this thing." For some reason, this understanding on his part sends Rachel spinning into a shame spiral, and while Tinkles and the eight or nine dozen student musicians presumably listen in on everything that follows, Rachel sinks into one of the chairs on the risers to announce, "I'm not really a nice person." "NO SHIT," Tinkles and the teeming mass of musically inclined teenagers do not scream in her face, choosing instead to putter around silently in the background as Rachel continues, "I'm selfish -- the fact is, I'm only really generous if there's something in it for me."

She goes on to compliment Finn on his kindness and openness, and if you haven't figured out by now that this is all merely a ploy of hers to get him to do something unpleasant for her, you haven't been watching this show for more than a couple of minutes. And long story short, Rachel tells Finn that they have to throw the competition for the sake of New Directions as a whole. "If we want to win Nationals," she asserts, "then Sam has to win this contest, okay? He has to feel like he belongs, and the team has to believe in him!" "Wow," Finn replies after a beat, impressed by Rachel's unexpected munificence. "I've never seen you like this." "You inspired me!" she simpers, leaning in to grant him a peck on the lips. And then Finn thinks real hard for a minute and comes up with this dandy little revelation: "But technically, you're doing this because it'll help us win Nationals, which means there's something in it for you, so it doesn't really count as you doing something nice." Rachel chooses to ignore this and instead urges Finn to focus on the goal: Helping her lose a singing competition so the new kid sticks around. Commercials.

By Demian

And when we return, we're immediately slung into a series of quick cross-cuts between Single-T Tina and Gaylord Wiener bickering up in the library and Brittany attempting to seduce Artie down by his locker. Basically, Gaylord knows he can't sing and therefore just wants to dance around Tina while she performs a solo, but Tina's having none of that, because she wants to win the BreadstiX gift certificate so they can go out on an actual date that doesn't include dragging his mother along to a dim sum restaurant so Mama Gaylord can chow down on steamed pork knuckles and chicken-foot salad while keeping an eye on her golden boy of a son and his inappropriately attired girlfriend. Meanwhile, Brittany's apparently decided the only way she'll snag that BreadstiX gift certificate for herself is by posing as Artie's main squeeze, and to that end, she claims she's always wanted to get him into a stroller. No, seriously. Artie's way into the idea, for whatever dark and depraved reason, and he immediately starts in with his typically ugly gloating as Brittany wheels him past an incredulous Santana Lopez. Behind Artie's back, Brit-Brit points at her bit-bits and wags a no-no finger around in Santana's face. Santana looks annoyed. Or guilty. Or possibly both.

Over in the boys' locker room, Weenie Von Bieberhausen emerges from the showers clad in nothing more than a towel -- yowza -- to chat with Finn about the proposed duet with Kurt, which Finn still vehemently opposes on the grounds it will doom Sam to the subbasement of McKinley's social hierarchy, because of the whole gay thing. "I didn't realize you had a problem with gay dudes," Sam coolly notes, donning a t-shirt that features a whopping big bull's eye across the chest for reasons that will soon become apparent. "Look, I don't have a problem with gay dudes," Finn claims, "but everyone else does, and we're living in their world, and in their world, you singing a duet with Kurt is a death sentence." So's sporting that cowl-neck sweater you're currently modeling, Frankenteen, but that didn't stop you from pulling it on this morning, now did it? "I gave him my word," Sam calmly explains, "and in my world, that's that." And having finished dressing at some point during the conversation, Sam slams shut his locker and...

By Demian

...heads out into the hall, where Karofsky and Azimio (and yes, I had to look up their names) launch slushies at that whopping big bull's eye across Sam's chest. Of course, because their aim sucks, most of it ends up in Sam's face. "Welcome to Glee Club, Lady Lips!" Azimio taunts, and I now have a new nickname for Weenie Von Bieberhausen. Thanks, Guy Who's Name I'll Forget Again As Soon As You're Off The Screen! The two meatheads vanish into the locker room just as Quinn rounds a corner to witness the grisly slushie aftermath, and as hints of that gentle piano theme this show whips out whenever tender romance is afoot appear on the soundtrack, Quinn leads Lady Lips into a nearby bathroom to rinse all of that frozen crap out of his asinine coif. Flirting a bit while of course making light of the situation in order to make him feel better, she laughingly confides, "The blueberry flavor is the worst -- especially if it gets down your pants. I looked like a creature out of Avatar down there when I got slushied." "I saw Avatar, like, six times!" Sam smiles, and NERRRRRRD.

Quinn's own smile quite rightfully falters a bit at that admission, but she smoothly gets things back on track by assuring Sam he'll eventually get used to frigid corn syrup gumming up his eyelids. Sam wonders why Quinn bothers with all of the aggravation, given the fact that she's the head cheerleader. "I like to sing," she explains, dabbing at his face with a washcloth, "and the fact is, those guys were pretty cool to me last year when I wasn't on top." And besides, she concludes, gently brushing his damp bangs with her fingertips, "What's the point of being popular when you can't do what you want?" "I am a tremendous geek entirely unworthy of your romantic attentions," Weenie Von Bieberhausen replies. Well, actually, he tells her -- in Na'vi -- that she has beautiful eyes, so it's pretty much the same thing. Quinn rolls those beautiful eyes of hers around so aggressively at this that I'm afraid her false eyelashes'll pop off.

Das Hummelhaus, later that evening. Kurt's prepared a "heart-healthy vegan carrot soup with whole-grain croutons" for his recuperating father's dinner, and Burt looks about as thrilled with the prospect of putting that taste-free crap into his mouth as you'd expect him to be. Kurt fusses about his father's recent arrhythmia for a bit until Burt finally gets to this scene's point by asking his son how school's been lately. "It's fine," Kurt dramatically sighs before adding an ominous-sounding, "I guess." Burt patiently waits for the first of several high-end fashion pumps to drop. Fortunately, he doesn't have to wait very long, for Kurt soon unleashes a torrent of information regarding Weenie Von Bieberhausen, his proposed duet with same, and Finn's supposedly homophobic opposition to the entire plan. Burt waits until Kurt's finished, then suggests that Finn might have a point.

By Demian

He'd been talking to Carole, you see, and he now knows Finn's side of last season's story that I -- forgive me -- have pretty much completely forgotten about by this point, and Burt counsels his son to cool it with the new kid, for Kurt's own sake, if for nothing else. Of course, Kurt explodes at the very suggestion he back down, and he starts ranting about how he wants to roam McKinley's halls holding hands with the paramour of his choice if he so pleases, and how he wants to slow-dance at his prom with same if that would suit his fancy, and this is where I completely shut down and stop listening to him, because he's now beating me over the head with the same sort of bullshit angst-ridden teenaged high-school romance crap I totally don't care about when it comes from any of these kids, gay or straight. Shut up, Kurt. And listen to your father, because he's quite wisely advising you to pick your battles carefully, and high school so isn't worth the effort. Then again, my shadow hasn't darkened a high school's doors in nearly 25 years, so what the hell do I know, right? In any event, Burt basically tells Kurt to suck it up and wait for better times, and Kurt ends the scene by resting his weary head against his even wearier father's shoulder.

Smash cut to the music room, where Mercedes and Santana tear into their entry for this week's competition: An absolutely scorching rendition of "River Deep -- Mountain High," which was of course originally performed by Miss Tina Turner, though several people in this show's audience seem to have missed that memo and have repeatedly attributed it to some hideous Canadian troll-woman who shall remain nameless. Needless to say, both Mercedes and Santana lack the commanding sense of tortured emotional upheaval and maturity Miss Tina brought to the proceedings nearly 45 years ago, but they still frigging kill it, despite a depressing lack of fringe, maracas, and four-inch-high fuck-me heels. They finish to the wild and wildly justified approbation of their peers, though it's notable that Rachel and Finn now have no idea how their masterful plan for Sam's triumphant introduction to New Directions is going to succeed. We'll worry about that later, though, because it's time for a commercial.

By Demian

And when we return, Lady Lips is once again naked, because he's just about to step into a hot, steamy shower in the boys' locker room. Barely has he stuck that asinine coif of his under the spray, however, when Kurt pops up -- looking like Peter Pan's gayer younger brother with that hat of his, by the way -- to release Sam from his duet-related obligations. It's obvious to the audience, of course, that Kurt's smartly decided to follow his father's excellent advice, but Wet Sam thinks he's offended Kurt in some way. "It's not you, it's me," Kurt assures him. "You've been honorable, actually, and I wish you the best," he adds before getting all self-serving with, "but I've realized I have to sing with someone that matches my passion and talent level." "Who's that?" Sam gamely asks. Kurt deflects the answer by pointedly glancing at Sam's toiletries and smirking, "You know, they make special shampoo for color-treated hair." Kurt immediately spins on his expensive heel and bounces on out of there, with Sam calling after him, "I don't dye my hair!" "Uh-huh!" Kurt sings, never once looking back.

"This is a disaster!" Rachel melodramatically moans. We've shot over to her bedroom, where she and Finn fret about the viability of their masterful plan for Sam's triumphant introduction to New Directions now that Mercedes and Santana have so clearly blown everybody else out of the Glee Club pond. Fortunately, Finn suddenly has an idea. "You remember how we saw Grease, and it was good?" he asks her. "And then we saw Grease 2, and I fell asleep? You said the difference was that the songs were bad!" Oh, Lord. "Bad" doesn't begin to describe this tuneless horror, kids, but I do appreciate the effort. In any event, Rachel quickly understands what he's getting at, and just as quickly agrees to perform a song as bad as those in Grease 2. "Not just a bad song," Finn astutely amends. "An offensive song." So, are we doing "offensively bad" or "badly offensive," then? 'Cause, you know, they're generally two different things. Most of the time.

By Demian

The day at school -- and I dare you to figure out what sort of Satanic calendar McKinley runs on, given that these damn weeks are so long -- Tina approaches Artie in the music room to suggest they perform together, what with Gaylord's apparent continued intransigence on the matter. Artie smugly notes he's already got a partner, thank you very much, and wheels over to Brittany just as Mr. Schue arrives to wonder who's . Kurt flaps a hand into the air and rises from his seat to announce to all and sundry ("sundry" being "Tinkles"), "As many of you know, I had a duet partner, but due to sensitivities that I'd rather not get into at the moment, I have dissolved the partnership." Cut to Rachel, Finn, and Weenie Von Bieberhausen looking guilt-stricken. "So, who are you going to sing a duet with?" Mr. Schue prompts. "Only the most talented member of the Glee Club," Kurt smirks. Rachel all but places a studiously surprised and self-effacing "Who -- moi?" hand to her chest and deigns to gift Kurt with a gracious smile until Kurt continues, "Myself." Rachel's smile evaporates. Hee.

"When you're different," Kurt explains, "when you're special, sometimes you have to get used to being alone." "How can you do a duet by yourself?" Santana deliciously condescends. "That's, like, vocal masturbation, or something." Various of the children titter over Santana's saucy deployment of the M-word, but Kurt rises above it all to declare, "I will be doing a number from the seminal classic movie Victor/Victoria" -- a film, he claims, that's about "embracing both the male and the female sides," and I'd argue strenuously with that assertion, I'm sure, but as debating the funny little people in the television set almost always leads to bitter tears and angry recriminations, I'll let that one slide in favor of watching as Kurt tells Tinkles, "Hit it!"

We slip immediately into what I have to believe is a fantasy performance sequence, what with the elaborate costumes, orchestrations, sets, and choreography on display, though you should know the show muddies that interpretation considerably by having the kids cheer Kurt from the auditorium's seats at the end of it all. But I'm getting ahead of myself, I suppose. The song Kurt's chosen is "Le Jazz Hot" and I'll say it right now: Dame Julie Andrews has nothing to worry about. At all. Like she cares, I'm sure, but still.

By Demian

If it weren't for that impending bit of twee nonsense from Quinn and Sam later on in the episode, I'd call this the worst number of the evening, despite all of the obvious effort that went into its production, and despite the fact that Chris Colfer acquits himself admirably on that almost impossible glissando at the end. And the backup dancers look terrific as well, with all of them -- men and women -- rocking their top hats and white ties and tails, but Kurt's in this bizarrely bifurcated half-black/half-white half-heartedly glittery tuxedo, and there's all of this unnecessary fringe dripping down the white sleeve of the thing that doesn't make any sense at all, and Colfer's voice is obviously and annoyingly overproduced at points, and there's this gross little pointless half-mustache on his upper lip, and the low-rent drag queen who did his girl-side eye makeup should be slapped in her teeth, and feh. I miss Lesley Ann Warren, I guess is what I'm trying to say. She was robbed at that year's Academy Awards. Robbed!

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah: F for Feh. But an A for effort. !

Over in McKinley High's astronomy classroom -- no, seriously -- Sam's making some pretty lame planet-related moves on Quinn until she not unkindly tells him to knock it off and talk to her about this duet he's proposing they perform. So, Sam shifts from a planet-based flirtation to a guitar-based one as he attempts to show her how to play a chord or two, and even I have to admit this scene is obnoxiously cute. Not to mention well played not only by Dianna Agron, from whom I've come to expect such things, but also by the ludicrously named Chord Overstreet, who's surprising me again and again this evening with the sheer likability with which he's endowing the character.

Anyway, before this turns into a disgusting bout of unseemly gushing on my part, I'll skip ahead to the bit where Sam moves in to steal a kiss, and Quinn almost lets him have it, but at the last moment she breaks away all, "Nope! Sorry! Not gonna happen! Went through this last year, and it sucked, and I'm never gonna go through that crap again! I know this feeling -- like I need you -- and I don't need you, and I don't need duets, because what I do need is to find a way to keep Santana off my heels, and what I do need is to find a way to torture Rachel, and what I do need is to start learning to ignore people!" You should know that Sam's been babbling apologies throughout that little rant, but Quinn basically holds up a hand to quiet him and claims, "I made a mistake, and I don't want to sing with you." On that, she sweeps out of there, leaving hapless Lady Lips to flail around miserably in her wake. Yeah, they'll be dating by the end of the episode. Commercials.

By Demian

"I don't think I can do this," Gaylord frets in the middle of the music room. "It's the perfect song for this very situation," Tina, standing at his side, attempts to assure him, though she doesn't sound too convinced of that herself. And after some more hemming and hawing, Tina takes his hand and smiles, "Trust me, you're gonna be great." That's apparently enough to launch Gaylord into action, and he propels himself into "Sing!" from A Chorus Line. Kurt's surprise at their musical selection matches my own, though I very much doubt his surprise comes from not having heard this number in nearly 30 years, as mine does. In fact, I spent half this routine trying desperately to figure out where the hell it's from. The other half, of course, was spent in a kind of open-mouthed amazement, both at the utter appropriateness of the tune for the characters involved -- which, let's face it, is something this show hasn't been doing a lot of lately -- and at the almost palpable sense of loose-limbed joy bursting from Harry Shum. I might have to stop calling him "Gaylord" after all this. Well, okay, not really, but this is fantastic. The song's roles have been reversed, of course, with Gaylord taking the painfully off-key Kristine bits while Tina covers Al's more mellifluent notes, but it's a hell of a lot more dynamic than the stage version, with Gaylord leaping all around the room, dancing on and over chairs, and spinning himself atop the piano, and it's all so puppies and sunshine and rainbows that I don't know whether to giggle like a little girl or vomit. Bravo, Gaylord. Bravo. Gaylord and Tina's assembled compatriots are equally congratulatory, with the notable exception of Artie, who squirms uncomfortably around in his wheelchair as Tina happily takes this well deserved opportunity to throw some of that smug gloating right back into her crippled ex-boyfriend's face.

By Demian

Smash to another series of quick cross-cuts, these between Finn and Sam in the weight room and Rachel and Quinn in the ladies'. Finn and Rachel, understanding that their masterful plan for Sam's triumphant introduction to New Directions won't amount for much if Sam doesn't actually, you know, sing, have taken it upon themselves to convince Sam and Quinn to give their partnership another try. Guess what? It works. !

Brittany's Boudoir. She's got a Charlie St. Cloud poster on her wall. HA! Unfortunately, that's not the point of this scene. Nope, instead, the point is Artie giving up on rehearsing with Brittany almost before that rehearsing has begun. "I can't do this," he moans. "Why?" she logically -- go figure -- asks. "I thought I was over somebody," he lamely explains, "but I think I still have feelings for them." "The Clintons?" Brittany guesses. Hee. Artie testily corrects her and makes to wheel his huffy way on out of there, but Brittany calls out, "Wait, don't leave! You wanna get over Tina, right?" Artie silently nods his head, so Brittany slinks over to his side, lifts him bodily from his wheelchair, carries him over to her bed, sets him down gently atop her duet, and straddles him, all the while explaining, "You're on the football team now, anyways? So, I'm gonna get around to this at some point?" "Am I about to lose my virginity?" Artie whispers, one tiny part of him still disbelieving, even though the rest of him is totally way stoked. "Before our duet?" Brittany whispers back, all smiles and seduction. "We're gonna do it?" Commercial? Commercial.

Music Room. Rachel and Finn -- dressed up as a nun and a priest, respectively -- unleash their carefully prepared obnoxiously bad/badly obnoxious duet upon the rest of the class, and it's Billy Preston and Syreeta Wright's "With You I'm Born Again," and it's exactly as gross at that set-up sounds. So gross, in fact, that it leaves Mercedes, Sam, Tina, Quinn, Mr. Schue, and yours truly with an overwhelming desire to punch Rachel and Finn in the face. Rachel and Finn are shocked -- shocked -- at the others' reactions, and take to their seats, abashed, all the while hoping this gruesome mishap doesn't cost them the competition. Eager to get things back on track after the late atrocity, Mr. Schue calls on Sam and Quinn for their competition entry, and it's "Lucky," an unbearably twee bit of nonsense from Jason Mraz that leaves yours truly and exactly no one else with an overwhelming desire to punch Sam and Quinn in the face. And as she basks in the wrongheaded adulation of her peers, Quinn allows her hand to linger in Sam's for just a moment too long before we head into the commercial break.

By Demian

McKinley High Hall, and this is just brain-bakingly stupid, so I'm going to speed through most of it. Long story short, Artie breaks up with Brittany, because he found out that she's using him for his voice, and that's the only reason she had sex with him. And just how did Artie find out that Brittany's using him for his voice, and that's the only reason she had sex with him?

"She's using you for your voice," Santana tells Artie after we've smeared over to the cafeteria. "That's the only reason she had sex with you." "How do you know that?" Artie challenges. Santana taps a passing sixteenth-year senior on the shoulder and asks the rapidly aging gent if he knows Brittany. "Cheerios Brittany?" he eyebrows before confirming, "Yeah, we had sex." "Look," Santana continues, refocusing her attention on Artie, "I don't mean to be a bitch -- well, yeah, actually I do -- but the only thing that you can give Brittany that she can't get somewhere else is super-choice parking."

And when we smear back to the present, Artie unloads this complete line of utter bullshit about how precious his stupid virginity was to him, and how much he hates Brittany now for not understanding that, and I hate him so much right now that I just want him to wheel his goddamned sanctimonious ass off a cliff. And then I want Gaylord and Tina to tap-dance on his crippled grave. Especially because Brittany really wanted to take him to BreadstiX? So she could order them one really-really long piece of spaghetti, like in Lady And The Tramp? 'Cause she's been practicing? Nudging the meatball across the table? With her nose? Fuck you, Artie.

Music Room. Mr. Schue places a battered top hat on the piano and announces that, as Artie and Brittany have withdrawn themselves from the race, it's time to take it to a vote. MONTAGE! Finn votes for "Sam/Quinn"; Mercedes votes for "Mercedes & Satan"; Gaylord votes for "Tina," but he puts her name in a big heart, and awwwwwwwwwww; Quinn votes for "Sam & Quinn"; Kurt votes for "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel"; and Brittany votes for "ME!" Her ME!, not me ME!, which would have been weird. And when it's all over -- and because everybody except Rachel and Finn voted for themselves -- the BreadstiX gift certificate goes to... Sam and Quinn! Santana bursts into tears over her loss, Quinn warns Sam sotto voce that "this is not a date," and Rachel and Finn congratulate each other on the success of their masterful plan for Sam's triumphant introduction to New Directions until she happens to glance over her shoulder to find Kurt feeling especially sorry for himself. Well, actually, he looks like he's dripping with disdain for the no-class miscreants he must suffer every single day of his godforsaken life, but Rachel knows he's actually feeling especially sorry for himself, because Rachel is magic.

By Demian

And the thing we know, she's chasing Kurt down the hall, nattering, "I had something I wanted to talk to you about." "Please not another pregnancy," Kurt sighs as he swings open his locker to reach for a can of hairspray. Undaunted, Rachel continues, "I think that you and I are a little bit more similar than you think." Pause. Kurt: "That's a terrible thing to say. [Pfffffffffffffffff!]" That last bit would indicate Chris Colfer contemptuously spraying his hair with an exquisite sense of comic timing. In any event, Rachel blows past his attitude to call him out on his loneliness, and she gives him a little pep talk regarding same before asking if he'd like to perform a duet with her. "But the duet competition is over," he wearily reminds her. "I know," she shrugs, "but I just thought this one could be for me and you." Kurt takes a moment, but smiles gratefully at her just as the final bell rings.

BreadstiX. And because I am fully aware of the heartbreaking image that ends this scene, I'll be skimming through Quinn and Sam's first non-date date for the relevant bits: Lady Lips transferred from an all-boys boarding school, which is why he's been so lame all evening with the Matthew McConaughey impressions and the unfunny jokes and the Na'vi, but he wins Quinn over with his earnest charm and his sincere admiration for her ability to overcome last year's unpleasantness with that out-of-wedlock infant and such. Oh, and he puts lemon juice in his hair. Got all that? Good, because the closing vamp just kicked in on the soundtrack, and I'm already getting a little verklempt. Quinn slips the gift certificate into her purse, because "a gentleman always pays on the first date," and as the vamp continues, the camera slides to the booth, where it finds Brittany, alone, nudging a meatball across her plate with her nose, and I... I just... I think I have something in my eye. Fuck you, Artie.

By Demian

And by the time I've regained my composure, the camera's cut back to the music room, where Kurt and Rachel perform the justifiably legendary medley of "Get Happy" and "Happy Days Are Here Again" from The Judy Garland Show, with Kurt as Judy and Rachel -- of course -- as Barbra, right down to that little satin sailor's middy she's donned for the occasion. And while I much prefer the original, I'm not going to be too critical of this cover, partly because it's perfectly fine for what it's trying to accomplish in this episode, but mainly because I needed to be done with this recap, like, five minutes ago, and my fingers hurt. By the way, they break away from Rachel and Kurt at various relevant moments to show us little vignettes of Sad Brittany watching from a distance as Finn wheels Artie through the high school hallways, and of Kurt tucking his father in at night, but most of the cutaways are to the others, smiling down upon Rachel and Kurt from the music room risers.

And then it's over. No, seriously, they just cut to black at the end of it all, like, even before the final note's faded out. Smooth work, guys.

week, there's an inexplicable repeat of "Hairography," followed on the 26th by Glee's version of The Rocky Horror Picture Show with, as best I can tell from the promo clips, Finn as Brad, Rachel as Janet, Artie as Dr. Scott, Gaylord as Eddie, Kurt as Riff, Santana and Quinn as dueling Magentas, Brittany and Tina as dueling Columbias, Sam as Rocky, and Mercedes as Frank N. Furter. I'm either going to be incredibly jealous of LTG or praising Cheesus that I dodged another bullet.

Demian was walking down the street, just a-havin' a think, when a snake of a guy gave him an evil wink. You may try to reach him at demian_twop@yahoo.com, but as time means nothing and never will again, you probably won't want to hold your breath waiting for a reply.