ANY-way, one quick time-lapsing cross-fade later finds Much-Abused Rachel and St. Gay Of Lima enjoying their first dinner together in their new apartment. "New York Domino's is so much better than Lima Domino's!" Rachel delights. "It's the water," St. Gay confidently notes, and that exchange is way funnier than it has any right to be. They get to chit-chatting about Frankenteen for a bit -- no, St. Gay hasn't heard from his errant stepbrother in a while, in case you were wondering, which you weren't, because no one gives a shit about Frankenteen anymore -- and then St. Gay announces his plans for the next couple of months: He'll audition once more for Fake Drama School In New York, of course, with an eye on matriculating for the winter term, but in the meantime, he's applied for a temporary position at Vogue.com. I'd unleash a screaming rant here about the utter improbability of Condé Nast hiring this completely inexperienced dipshit for a paid position at one of its flagship websites, but it'd probably be for the best if I held off on that until after he's actually gotten the job. Which we all know he will, because this show SUCKS.

In any event, once all of that's over and done with, Much-Abused Rachel moans about Drunk Kate Hudson and the shabby treatment she's been receiving at the latter's boozy hands since classes began, placing particular emphasis on Drunk Kate Hudson's latest sex-appeal-related slight. "Maybe you shouldn't wear a bra to your next class," St. Gay archly suggests. "And take all of the attention away from the Miss Cassie July?" Rachel snorts. "She'd flip!" "Cassie July is your dance teacher?" St. Gay gay-gasps. "As in the Cassie July," he continues, practically hyperventilating, "a.k.a. 'Crazy July,' a.k.a. 'The Biggest Train Wreck In Broadway History'?" "You don't know her story?" St. Gay all but shrieks, aghast. Much-Abused Rachel looks dumb by way of response, so we smear sideways to...

...a suspiciously cinematic YouTube clip entitled "Bat vs. Cell phone" that quickly expands to engulf the entire television screen as St. Gay breathlessly narrates, "Cassie July was the It girl ten years ago -- she scored the coveted role of temptress Lola in a high-profile revival of Damn Yankees!" By this point, they've superimposed St. Gay's intensely gossipy profile over the suspiciously cinematic footage of Drunk Kate Hudson's long-ago performance, and it's a pretty amusing visual, but St. Gay just as quickly disappears so the following might unreel by itself: Drunk Kate Hudson staggers around amid a gaggle of chorus boys for a few bars -- a few bars that most certainly did not originate in the Damn Yankees score -- until some hapless geriatric's cell phone goes off out in the audience. Drunk Kate Hudson promptly calls a halt to the proceedings, insists she will not continue until the hapless geriatric has been forcibly removed from the premises, and snatches up a handy baseball bat to menace the hapless geriatric when the ushers do not respond immediately to her unhinged demands. She scrambles down from the stage, screaming, but alas! Just as things are about to get most awesomely bloody, we smear sideways back to...