...the hall, where we find Quinn babbling something boring about her asinine Drizzle-centered subplot at a guilty-looking Puck for a while until she enters Idina's office to join The Troubletones for what I'm certain are nefarious reasons. "I'll have to think about that," Idina coolly replies. Quinn looks pissed. And possibly insane.
Elsewhere, The Leprechaun assures Frankenteen that he'll always have the lumbering, slack-jawed, talent-free moron's back as far as Santana Lopez and her hilariously worded put-downs are concerned. Frankenteen replies by explaining the entire concept of "trash-talking" to the clueless lad because Rory's apparently even dumber than Finn is, and then he vows to beat Santana at her own game. She is just going to eat these two idiots alive, isn't she? On cue, Santana materializes in front of them with Brittany at her side to breeze past Frankenteen with a cheery, "Hey there, Orca!" "Hey, Santana!" Finn calls out, commencing with his pathetic attempt to Bring It. "You look like an assless J.Lo!" "You're skinny," Rory dimly offers, just making it all worse, "like all the crops failed on your family's farm!" "That is the lamest thing I didn't understand a word of," Santana assures The Leprechaun before sidling up to the lumbering, slack-jawed, talent-free moron to lecture him like so: "You seriously think that you can out-insult me? I'm from Lima Heights!. I was raised on insults -- it's how mi abuela put me to sleep at night, and she is not a nice lady. You know she tried to sell me once? And it wasn't 'til I got to kindergarten that I learned my name wasn't 'Garbage Face.'" "Then we'll have to settle this another way," Finn frets, trying to think fast and failing miserably. Eventually, however, he comes out with, "Today, after school: Bring your Troubletones." "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" Santana smiles. "Yeah, I am," Finn confirms, setting a stony look of grim determination on his face. "Dodgeball!" Dun-dun-DUN!
Over in the auditorium, Rachel hesitates at the curtain, then steels her resolve and approaches Idina Menzel at the baby grand to ask if she'd sign a prewritten letter of recommendation for Rachel to include in her application to that nonexistent drama school in New York. Idina agrees without hesitation, and Rachel turns to leave, but Idina stops her with a few warm and evidently sincere remarks regarding her obvious and envious potential, so Rachel wonders if Idina might like to pen the entire recommendation herself. Idina would love to, thank you very much, and she opens Rachel's proffered folder to examine the résumé Rachel's prepared. Did you know she's been teaching tap at the Jewish Community Center for the last three years? Neither did I. Idina scans the "impressive" document and idly notes, "I feel bad for all the kids who don't have all these big-ticket items in their CVs -- they don't have one chance in hell of getting into NYADA." For whatever reason, this entirely innocent comment sends Rachel spinning into a visible yet silent shame spiral, and we head into this evening's next commercial break wondering what her big fucking problem is this time.