"She's using you for your voice," Santana tells Artie after we've smeared over to the cafeteria. "That's the only reason she had sex with you." "How do you know that?" Artie challenges. Santana taps a passing sixteenth-year senior on the shoulder and asks the rapidly aging gent if he knows Brittany. "Cheerios Brittany?" he eyebrows before confirming, "Yeah, we had sex." "Look," Santana continues, refocusing her attention on Artie, "I don't mean to be a bitch -- well, yeah, actually I do -- but the only thing that you can give Brittany that she can't get somewhere else is super-choice parking."
And when we smear back to the present, Artie unloads this complete line of utter bullshit about how precious his stupid virginity was to him, and how much he hates Brittany now for not understanding that, and I hate him so much right now that I just want him to wheel his goddamned sanctimonious ass off a cliff. And then I want Gaylord and Tina to tap-dance on his crippled grave. Especially because Brittany really wanted to take him to BreadstiX? So she could order them one really-really long piece of spaghetti, like in Lady And The Tramp? 'Cause she's been practicing? Nudging the meatball across the table? With her nose? Fuck you, Artie.
Music Room. Mr. Schue places a battered top hat on the piano and announces that, as Artie and Brittany have withdrawn themselves from the race, it's time to take it to a vote. MONTAGE! Finn votes for "Sam/Quinn"; Mercedes votes for "Mercedes & Satan"; Gaylord votes for "Tina," but he puts her name in a big heart, and awwwwwwwwwww; Quinn votes for "Sam & Quinn"; Kurt votes for "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel"; and Brittany votes for "ME!" Her ME!, not me ME!, which would have been weird. And when it's all over -- and because everybody except Rachel and Finn voted for themselves -- the BreadstiX gift certificate goes to... Sam and Quinn! Santana bursts into tears over her loss, Quinn warns Sam sotto voce that "this is not a date," and Rachel and Finn congratulate each other on the success of their masterful plan for Sam's triumphant introduction to New Directions until she happens to glance over her shoulder to find Kurt feeling especially sorry for himself. Well, actually, he looks like he's dripping with disdain for the no-class miscreants he must suffer every single day of his godforsaken life, but Rachel knows he's actually feeling especially sorry for himself, because Rachel is magic.