Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel screws up her courage and asks if they might instead try a series of original songs, as they've done in the past. Mr. Schue quickly shoots that idea down, and when Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel foolishly presses the issue, Mr. Schue all but bites her tedious little head off, shouting, "Do I have to remind you guys how lucky we are to even be at Regionals? We are there on a technicality, which means there is absolutely no room for even the smallest of mistakes!" Thus so suitably chastened, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel slides her sure-to-be-awful original compositions back into her folder, and pouts her way into this evening's first commercial break.
April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Dreamboat Blaine -- in his role "as honorary Rachel" -- gavels a secret meeting of The Glee Club to order, and long story short, everyone agrees that Mr. Schue's lost his damn mind, and is well on his way to losing them Regionals as well. Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel takes this opportunity to rise from her seat with her folder of sure-to-be-dreadful original compositions and ask, "Can I say something?" "I wrote some songs," she continues, once she's captured everyone's attention. "What if we perform those?" "Please," Pretty Kitty eyerolls, "no one wants to hear a song about a fat mom." "Okay," Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel shrugs, shuffling the pages in her hand, "what about...?" "Or a song about barfing," Kitty interjects. Marley: "But what about...?" Kitty: "Or a song about loving an octoroon!" Hee. And now I actually want to hear those three songs. God knows they can't be any worse than the ones they end up performing tonight.
Anyway, Dreamboat Blaine announces that they'll brainstorm an alternate set list and present it to Mr. Schue, and with that, we zip on over to...
...The University Of Lima. Wagner's "Ride Of The Valkyries kicks in on the soundtrack as Old Puck disrobes in slow motion in the middle of a throng of cheering coeds to hurl himself down a slip-and-slide they've set up in the middle of the dorm hall. Meanwhile, Frankendrunk heats up some grilled cheese on an ironing board for the guests of this impromptu campus rager he's decided to throw, then rather creepily demands that two random bleach-blondes surrender their bikini tops as an admission fee. Before we get a chance to dwell on that fresh slice of horror for very long, however, Mr. Schue edges in from the stairwell -- no, I don't know how he gained access to the dorm, so don't bother asking me -- and long story short, he apologizes for the recent kerfuffle. Bloaty The Cocaine Clown tells him to go to Hell. You know, more or less. So, I suppose we'll be dealing with this asinine subplot for a little while longer. Hooray!