Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High. Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, Not-So-Unique, and Single-T Tina stop Brit-Brit and Pretty Kitty in the middle of the hallway and demand to know what Kitty's guilty pleasure is. "None of your business," Kitty snaps back. "Spice Girls," Brittany stage-whispers. Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, Not-So-Unique, and Single-T Tina gawp at Pretty Kitty for one very long second, then erupt in ear-splitting shrieks of delight. "We must do The Spice Girls," Urethra Franklin insists, adding, "It has to be done -- and this fierce black woman will be Scary Spice!" "Nothing scarier than a girl with a penis," Pretty Kitty quips. Brit-Brit whaps her on the arm. "Kidding!" Kitty instantly insists, with a bright, false smile stretching her lips out to her ears. The other ladies blink.
My Ancestral Homeland. "This is ridiculous," Santana complains, entering a cramped bathroom that's already playing host to St. Gay at the sink and Old Idiot Rachel in the shower. "If I'm going to be paying a third of the rent," Santana argues, "I'm going to be needing a third of the shelf space." She paws through a salon's worth of toiletries that her roommates have stored in the bath's jury-rigged milk-crate cabinets as The Horrible Hooker screams out, "This is only temporary!" from behind the curtain. "I don't think you need all these beauty products," Santana continues, as if Old Idiot Rachel had never opened her yammering trap in the first place, "'cause they're not really having the desired effect, unless your goal is to look like a reject from The Shahs Of Sunset." Hee. Through a mouthful of toothpaste, St. Gay mumbles something I simply can't understand, and as The Horrible Hooker starts obnoxiously running through her vocal scales, Santana tiptoes up to him to hiss, "What if I just told your B-F-F about her B-F and his manwhoring ways?" St. Gay spits -- like, literally: He spits the toothpaste out of his mouth -- and hisses right back, "We had a pact!" Santana threatens to break that pact, leading St. Gay to seethe something about Old Idiot Rachel not finding out until after her Funny Girl audition. "It would wreck her!" he emphasizes. "Maybe if you made me some space," Santana shrugs, "I'd care a little bit more." St. Gay heaves a tremendously put-upon sigh and begins clearing away his many, many exfoliants. Heh.