Music room. The Troubletones have joined the New Directions. Or at least, the Troubletones with names and lines -- Santana, Brit, Mercedes, and Sugar Motta. But none of the others. Finn writes "Lady Music" on the whiteboard, and tells everyone that the lesson for the week is to sing songs "by ladies, for ladies." For the sole purpose of demonstrating to Santana that they're all super cool with her being a giant lesbian. Santana's not thrilled with the idea, but she's got that suspension hanging over head, so she doesn't put up too much of a fuss. And Will and Shelby don't seem to have any thoughts. I mean, about the lesson. Although with Will, not having any thoughts is probably par for the course. And then Finn turns it over to Kurt and Blaine, who sing Pink's "Fuckin' Perfect." But not before Santana insults Blaine's hair gel and bowtie. God bless her. Although she somehow fails to comment on Kurt's sweater. Or, rather, half-sweater. Lest you think it's a belly-shirt, it's actually cut diagonally. Is there a yarn shortage I'm not aware of? Maybe lack of yarn is the explanation for Blaine's constant socklessness. Anyway, Santana's post-song thanks are followed immediately by insults.
Ah, it's the return of Sue's journal. She's worried about the ad that Reggie "The Sauce" Salazar is about to run: "Why would someone assume I'm a friend of Ellen just because I'm mannish and highly aggressive and have short hair and I only wear track suits and I coach a girls' sport and I married myself? It just doesn't make sense. The truth is, Journal, I'm attracted to men. Sure, I can't stand watching them eat or talking to them, but when it comes to getting sexy, this gal's got a hole in her heart only a fella can fill." Her only available option is to find a man, so she whips out her little black book (which is not so little, and is embossed "Sue's Booty Calls" on the cover) to find some man candy: "Dan Quayle? Too needy. Steven Baldwin? Train wreck. Oliver North? Biter. Matt Lauer? Too much crying. Johnnie Cochran? Pretty sure he's dead." She turns the page, and her voice-over proclaims "Eureka! That's the kind of guy I need. Better luck next time, David Boreanaz. Sue Sylvester's found her man." Look out, Chris Noth. I bet she's coming after you.