...the teachers' lounge, where Will's regaling the other Acafellas with the positive review they received in the Style section of The Lima News. The reviewer favorably compares Will to Michael Bublé, thinks Ken's possessed of a "smoky baritone," and notes that Henri "proves you don't need all ten fingers to pluck a lady's heartstrings like a well tuned, sexy harpsichord." Alas, she was not so kind to Howard, whose face falls when Will lies that Howard was somehow omitted from the article. For whatever reason, Sandy Ryerson invites himself into the lounge again -- this time, he's wearing watermelon-colored corduroys festooned with tiny embroidered kelly green alligators -- and before anyone has a chance to greet him, he announces, "I have two words for you: Josh. Groban. He's coming to the PTA event!" Howard, timidly: "Who is Josh Groban?" Sandy, howling with unadulterated incredulity: "'Who is Josh Groban?' KILL YOURSELF." HA! Sandy quickly regains his composure and sits to school Howard thusly: "He is an angel sent from Heaven to deliver platinum records unto us, and if he were here right now, I'd club you to death with his Critics' Choice Award." Josh Groban's also been Sandy's Internet pen pal ever since he accidentally friended the disgraced choir director on -- News Corporation Product Placement Alert! -- MySpace, and agreed to see The Acafellas perform if and only if Sandy were admitted back into the group. The Acafellas: "No!" Sandy flounces. Well, Sandy flounces everywhere, but in this case, he flounces angrily out the door.
Carmel High. The camera pans up over a tricked-out Lincoln Navigator -- complete with spinning rims -- that parks just outside the school's auditorium. Kurt, whose ride the Navigator is, emerges from the depths of the massive SUV with Rachel, Tina, Quinn, Santana Lopez, Britney, and Mercedes, the last of whom marvels, "Damn, Kurt, this car is fly." "My dad got it for my sweet sixteen," Kurt preens, "after I swore to stop wearing form-fitting sweaters that stop at the knee." I should note Kurt is currently wearing a form-fitting sweater that stops at the knee. In Nancy Reagan red. Kurt: "What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him." Hee. As he links arms with Mercedes to saunter off down the sidewalk, Rachel and Tina shoot each other worried looks while Quinn and The Quinions wickedly pass Mercedes a round of encouraging smiles. Before any of this goes too far, though, Rachel spots an Adrenaline barfing into a garbage can further down the walk and excitedly identifies her as the "Andrea Cohen" who "won Outstanding Soloist last year at Absolutely Tampastic." "You can't leave rehearsals for any reason!" the fellow Adrenaline who's holding back Andrea's hair whispers with a look of sheer terror on her face. "That includes heat exhaustion and Crohn's disease!" Andrea's fellow Adrenaline, by the way, is wearing a neck brace. Hee. Overexcited Rachel of course ignores all of this to power over and blurt, "We'd like to talk to Dakota Stanley about choreographing for our Glee Club!" Andrea Cohen, still doubled over the garbage can with barf bits trickling down the sides of her mouth, weeps, "Don't! He's a monster!"
Cut to the stage within, where Vocal Adrenaline leaps into a very entertaining version of Duffy's "Mercy." It's not as deliriously inspired as the pilot's "Rehab," but it's just as enthusiastically performed, and good goddamn, but some of those dancing boys are hot. Expect it to have entered heavy rotation in gay video bars across the nation by the time this recap's been posted. The Adrenalines end this routine as they did their last, by dropping their heads with their hands clasped at their waists, so I guess that's some sort of show choir cliché, or something. In any event, once they're done, the camera cuts to a troll-like gentleman in the wings who bellows, "GET OFF MY STAGE." This would be the eminent Dakota Stanley and, to paraphrase the lovely and talented Wolf, who first noted the following on the forum boards: He looks like, well...you know when you're out in the woods, and you wander into the darkest, nastiest, wettest area possible, and you turn over a big rock? Dakota Stanley's the guy who pops out from behind a tree and flashes you. This does not, of course, deter Rachel, who stalks him from the rehearsal to his Stingray T-top (that apparently came complete with a pneumatically enhanced bleached blonde in the passenger seat when he picked it up from the lot) to beg for his services, which are quite expensive: Eight thousand dollars a number plus a $10,000 bonus if they reach the top three at Regionals. How will the Glee Club ever raise that much cash? Quinn apparently already has a cunning plan, but we'll have to wait until after the commercial break to learn the brilliant details.
McKinley High Music Room. Will's running Ken through some white-hot New Jack Swing dance moves when Howard calls from Sheets 'N Things with some unfortunate news: "I don't think I can be in the band anymore." He offers his difficult inventory duties as the reason, but I'm thinking the negative review in The Lima News just crushed his poor little heart. Will's frustrated, and quickly becomes more so when Emma -- wearing yet another delightful outfit -- arrives with even more unfortunate news: Henri's just downed six bottles of cough syrup, "which is a lot, even for him," and Figgins is insisting he go to rehab or lose his job. Ken, stressed, bails to "down some power bars and knock off a few reps" in order to "come up with a few solutions, here," for Acafellas' entirely unpredictable predicament, leaving Will once more alone with Emma and her rilly cute shoes. "I don't think you should give up so easily," Emma counsels. "You know, they say Van Halen was dead after David Lee Roth quit, but my worn-out single of 'Right Now' says that they were wrong." She leaves, and the next thing we know, Will's hopped onto the Internet, where he's posting an ad entitled "LOVE TO SING AND DANCE?" just as Finn arrives for yet another heart-to-heart, and thank God Will quickly convinces Finn to join The Acafellas, because I shudder to think of the sorts of responses Will would have received from the degenerate freaks on the Lima/Findlay Craigslist board.