Smear back to that morning's sex education class. Standing before both a whiteboard that exhorts her students to "advocate for condom distribution" and a rainbow-bedecked poster featuring a jaunty little reservoir-tipped rubber rocking the hell out, Gwyneth chipperly lectures the children on the condom's many, many benefits before cheerily hoisting a cucumber into the air for an application demonstration. "Wait!" Finn dims from his seat somewhere in the middle of the class. "Cucumbers can give you AIDS?" "Seriously?" a freaked-out Mercedes bleats from hear desk nearby. "'Cause I just had one on my salad!"
Smear forward to the teachers' lounge, where Gwyneth insists, "We've got to educate these kids!" Emma vehemently disagrees -- go figure -- and makes the pitifully weak argument that educating teenagers about sex will "steal their innocence," as if any of those rotten brats are in possession of anything remotely resembling innocence by the time they hit high school. Which, you know, is pretty much the gist of Gwyneth's counterargument, only she name-checks the twin demons of Media Exposure and Internet Access because she somehow feels she has to, or something like that. This leads to the following increasingly unhinged rant from the increasingly unhinged Emma: "That doesn't make it okay, and it shouldn't change the message that they get from us which is this is serious stuff and is not for kids and is not for adults!" Will pops his eyebrows at Emma's surprising outburst while Emma herself fidgets in her chair, trying and failing to feign a mien of calm, collected rationality. Gwyneth steps into the middle of all the awkwardness to smooth things over by perking, "Ooo-kay! Well, I think that's a little naive!" And with that, she gracefully rises to excuse herself. "I'm off to have ka-raaaazy sex," she explains with a broad smile on her face, "because I'm ka-raaaazy informed about it!" Will and Emma gawp. "Kidding," Gwyneth assures them. Will laughs and laughs and laughs because he is still desperate to get laid while Emma simply shakes her batshit head around with barely concealed contempt.
Cut to the hall, where the producers pause to toss an entirely gratuitous plug at American Cheerleader magazine before the camera eventually pans down to kick-start this evening's subplots. First up are Brit-Brit and Santana Lopez, the latter of whom slinks on over to Brittany's locker with the following proposition: "How about you and I pop in some Sweet Valley High this evening and get our cuddle on?" Alas, while Brit-Brit would like nothing more than to "get [her] sweet lady-kisses on" with Santana, she hasn't been "feeling very sexy lately." And why is that, I'm sure I hear you ask? "I think I have a bun in the oven," Brittany whispers. Dun-dun-DUN! Santana's eyes widen in horror as Brittany continues, "Please don't tell anyone, okay? Especially Artie." "Yeah, sure!" Santana hastens to assure her as Brit-Brit vanishes down the hall. "Your secret's safe with..."