Britney 2.0

Episode Report Card
Demian: A- | Grade It Now!
It's Still Brittany, Bitch

What follows is an utterly forgettable medley combining "Boys" with a so-called "song" that I will never, ever acknowledge as such, and because the gentlemen's performance has been liberally intercut with a series of utterly unnecessary reaction shots involving New Rachel bopping around in her absolutely hateful newsboy cap, I'll be skipping to the end: "I'm once again inspired by the awesomeness of [Other] Britney," Our Brittany assures the choir room at large. Mr. Schue beams. Shut up, Will.

New York City. Much-Abused Rachel and St. Gay Of Lima cavort upon a pair of bicycles through a fairly capacious Bushwick loft space that St. Gay notes could be theirs for a mere $1800 a month. Much-Abused Rachel frets for a moment or two over the 83rd Precinct's recent crime statistics, but that's not important at the moment because what's actually important at the moment is this: These two morons are moving into my father's old neighborhood. It's bad enough they're going to be whining their collective way through my goddamned borough for the rest of the season, but to have them violate my actual ancestral homeland? Fuck you, Glee.

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 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.

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