In any event, Mr. Schue needlessly defines the whole concept of this week's performance theme for the Brittanys and Frankenteens of the audience. Cleverly enough, while Mr. Schue's rambling on like that, the camera slides over to Kurt, who hisses for Mercedes's attention, nods his head in the new kid's direction, and announces, "He's on Team Gay -- no straight boy does his hair to look like Linda Evangelista circa 1993." Mercedes assures Kurt that he's insane, and we refocus our attention on Mr. Schue just as he announces that the children must -- wait for it -- pair off and perform a duet. As an added incentive, however, he's making this week's assignment a competition, with the winners receiving dinner for two, on him, at BreadstiX. The children immediately flip out and start babbling at each other, for as we all know, no teenager in Lima, Ohio, can resist the siren call of BreadstiX. Well, except for Kurt, of course, who merely trains his canny, gimlet eye on Weenie Von Bieberhausen as chaos erupts around them, and he quietly makes plans to get into Sam's pants just as the title card arrives to obliterate him from the screen.
Out in the hall, Sam busily shoves a couple of textbooks into his locker until Kurt and his ludicrous long-sleeved, button-down plaid shirt with studded epaulets and cuffs magically materialize at Sam's side to introduce themselves, and once that's over with, Kurt loiters with a conspiratorial smirk on his face until Sam finally goes, "What?" "Just tell me," Kurt prods. Sam stares dumbly at him, so Kurt finally cuts it with the coy crap and gets down to business: "Maybe at your old school you could get away with the whole I-Just-Stayed-In-The-Sun-All-Summer excuse, but I have three gifts -- my voice, my ability to spot trends in men's fashion, and my ability to know when it comes from a bottle." At that, he lifts his eyes from Sam's to stare pointedly at Weenie Von Bieberhausen's asinine coif. "I don't dye my hair, dude," Sam replies. "Yes, you do," Kurt insists. "That's not natural." Truer words, my friends. "I'm gonna go," Sam eventually announces, "'cause you're kinda freakin' me out." Kurt hastens to apologize for his supposedly off instincts, and oh, my holy Christ, he's got a fox tail clipped to one of his belt loops. Is that a thing, now? Wait -- don't answer that. God, hipsters suck.