Britney 2.0

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It's Still Brittany, Bitch

Anyway. When it's over, Boring New Rachel and Her Dire Headband catch a sudden chill, so Boring New Puck and His Goddamned Guitar gallantly hand over their leather jacket before strumming their way into the next commercial break. Yawn.

Music Room. Brittany sits by herself in the cheap seats, suspiciously eyeing the other members of New Directions, the latter of whom have arranged themselves on and around the piano on the opposite end of the room. There follows a really funny bit involving both Brit-Brit's newfound devotion to Kiki -- "Siri's super-smart older cousin who's really jealous about how famous Siri's gotten" -- and the titanic seventy-ounce cup of espresso Brittany's drinking at the moment until the other children in the room finally get around to offering Brit-Brit the solo at this week's pep rally. Brittany agrees, but only on the condition that her vocals be prerecorded, as she's fried her throat yelling at the shrubs in her yard. Just go with it. Generalized consternation abounds at the very idea of lip-synching during a performance, but the other children eventually agree to Brit-Brit's demands.

Fake Drama School In New York, Blotto Dance Division. Much-Abused Rachel cruises in -- late -- with Dean Geyer more-or-less on her arm, to be greeted by Drunk Kate Hudson like so: "You're dressed like a Walgreens underwear model." And that's... pretty goddamned weak, Drunk Kate Hudson. Would you like to try again? No? Fine. Have it your way. In any event, babbling commences, and the upshot of it all is that Much-Abused Rachel took it upon herself to prepare "a little routine" in order to prove she has "what it takes to be sexy." Drunk Kate Hudson basically tells Rachel to go for it, and the instant one of the backup dancers skitters across the front of the performance area with a little hand-held smoke machine, I know they're going to rip off this, because that's how old I am. I also feel deeply torn about it all because on the one hand, I know it's going to suck compared to the original -- no matter how dated and silly the original now seems -- but on the other hand, well, there's a possibility of Dean Geyer in a dance belt. Of course, it turns out that no one actually strips down during this show's version of that movie's highly stylized high-flying orgy, and that's probably for the best. I mean, does anyone really want to see Rachel whip 'em out and spin 'em around like she's a pint-sized Sandahl Bergman on crack? Didn't think so.

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