Even more amusing is the actual identity of Single-T Tina's intended: Dreamboat Blaine. Oh, Tina! Not that I blame her, of course, but still. As soon as Tina launches herself into her terribly sweet rendition of the song, we swing through a series of flashbacks that detail the terribly sad birth and blossoming of her hopeless crush on the crunchy-haired gay boy, from the moment Blaine placed a friendly arm around her shoulders during a wacky bit of rambunctious teenage hijinks in the high school's cafeteria, to Tina doodling "Tina + Blaine = BLATINA 4 EVER" in her notebook, to Tina staring all dreamy-eyed at Blaine's denim-clad ass in Algebra class. Back in the locker room, she directs a laser-like focus on the utterly and hilariously oblivious object of her misplaced affections until even dumbass Bloaty the Gravy Clown realizes what's going on. After Tina finishes the number with a hopeful little smile on her face, Old Finn leads the assembled children in a rousing round of desperate-sounding applause, apparently hoping the noise will distract Tina from her doomed mission. This cunning ploy of Bloaty's doesn't work, of course, and Tina steps up to the still-clueless Blaine and asks him to the dance. "Um...no?" he warily replies, clearly both thrown and embarrassed by this delightfully squirm-inducing turn of events. "Thank you?" he adds, flummoxed. Poor Tina's face collapses into this evening's first commercial break and while I'm not particularly fond of the way Tina keeps getting dumped on over and over again, that sequence was the first time I've felt honestly engaged in anything that's been happening with this show's high school contingent in what feels like months, so good for them.
Fake Drama School in New York. St. Gay Of Lima stands once again all by his lonesome in front of the student union's handy extracurriculars board, only this time around, that British-sounding blur drops by long enough to properly introduce himself, and... yeah, I just can't with this twee little hipster douchebag. I re-watched this scene about five times trying to figure out if I was being way too harsh in the recaplet when I claimed he was a filthy piece of fortysomething Eurotrash who looks exactly like a rat-faced meth head I knew in Chicago, and after several lengthy minutes of deliberation I've come to the conclusion that he really is a filthy piece of fortysomething Eurotrash who looks exactly like a rat-faced meth head I knew in Chicago. If they're serious about lashing Meth Head Grandpa here to Kurt as a romantic interest for the rest of the season, my already low interest in Kurt's various comings and goings is extremely likely to vanish entirely.