Suzy winds up supplanting her lacking social life with an audition for the All-State Chorus, and she makes a trip deep into Central Illinois with a bunch of freakish singing people (no, I'm not making a judgment call here -- I was in chorus for a little while too, and let me tell you, we were all freakish singing people, trust me) for the overnight auditions. Unfortunately, even though it seems to be kind of an honor to be asked to audition for this thing, Suzy's the only one who appears to be taking it even remotely seriously. Everyone else is just in it for the par-tay.
Before they even get to their hotel room, Suzy's roommates are asking some of the freakish singing guys to come over later. Suzy is all, "NOOOOOO!!!" Shhh, Suzy. You might just get a prom date outta this. Keep yer cool. So the boys call a bit later, and Suzy tries to thwart their attempts to come a courtin' by telling them that she wants to take a shower and doesn't want them there. Yeah, that'll do it. They're a raging bunch of teenaged hormones, Suzy. THEY'RE COMING UP. A few minutes later, the guys knock at the door, and Suzy all but drills steel-reinforced beams to the door in an effort to keep them out. Her girlfriend is all, "DUDE! They're boys! Move away from the door! Go practice scales or something, okay? Sex is more important than SINGING."
Suzy finally moves away and winds up spending the majority of the time in a chair in the corner, completely losing her shit whenever one of the guys comes near her. "I'm not nervous!" she protests lamely. Oh, you so are, Suzy. You can say all you want that you're not interested in boys and that your precious singing career is more important, but you're practically breaking out in hives at the mere presence of BOYS. Give it up, girl. You're tweaked. A couple of the kids start mock-wrestling as a prelude to what will most likely be their chosen method of foreplay: "No! Don't Tim! DON'T! [giggle giggle] DON'T! [surrender without giving up a fight] STOP IT! [tee-hee tee-hee] TIIIIIIMMMMM!!!" Wake up and smell the letdown, girls. Wrestling does not a good sexual partner make. Start making photocopies of the clitoris now, sweethearts, because these guys couldn't find one with a detailed roadmap and a compass. Trust me.
Suzy tries desperately to get the guys out of the room by using the tried-and-true delivery of a pillow to the head. Then she tells us in an interview that it's frustrating to be different from everybody else. What, everybody else who is rampaging uselessly around a hotel room in their pajamas giggling and wondering what their underbite-having children will look like in their school uniforms? Suzy, you're WAY better than that. It's high time you believed it. Take your late-blooming virgin lips to that audition and kick ass, sweetie, because when all these losers are trying to get a second mortgage to finance their ugly and selfish daughter's med school education, you'll be traveling all over the world and having roses flung at your feet by wealthy European princes with names like "Sebastian" and "Theodopolis." The rest of these pathetic idiots can only dream about the future you'll have, sister.