"Sing" by My Chemical Romance, as it turns out, and to be honest with you, the indifferently choreographed and aggressively plaid grungefest that ensues just leaves me cold. Will seems totally into it, though, so there's that, I suppose. I also have no doubt it'll be a big hit with all the kiddies when Glee inevitably schleps it out on tour this summer. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
Hall. Lady Lips breaks up with Quinn, because he's decided to start dating Santana. And who can blame him? Next!
Music Room. Rachel makes the absolutely ridiculous suggestion that they pen an original anthem of their own for Regionals, and everybody rightly points and laughs at her. Also: Gaylord and I own the exact same shirt. Needless to say, it looks a hell of a lot better on him. Next!
Once Will dismisses the class, Sue enters, clad once more in her Nancy Reagan-red power tracksuit with the bold white stripes racing down the sides, so we know she's about to stomp all over SpongeHair SquareChin's upbeat mood until it lies broken and bleeding on the linoleum floor. Sure enough, she almost immediately announces she's secured a part-time gig as the new coach for Aural Intensity. "That's impossible!" Will weakly protests. "Nothing's impossible when you have a positive attitude!" Sue grins, brightly adding, "You taught me that!" And as she sweeps on out of there -- of course passively-aggressively switching off the lights as she goes -- Sue all but sings, "See you at Regionals!" Next!
Hall. Finn approaches Rachel and admits he thinks her absolutely ridiculous suggestion regarding an original anthem for Regionals is actually an excellent idea. Moron. He also insists she's the glee club's "trendsetter" and, as he wanders off, he calls out that he firmly believes the good old "focused" "take-no-prisoners" Rachel of fondly remembered episodes past is "making a comeback." God, I hope so, because the shrill, drippy, lovesick nightmare we've been putting up with for the last year really fucking sucks.
Next week, the Rachel Berry house party train wreck extravaganza is officially a go, whatever the hell that means. Have fun!
Demian still wouldn't mind seeing Justin Bieber shot out of a cannon. You may once more agree with him at firstname.lastname@example.org.