Once that's taken care of, Sarah Jessica Parker makes the grievous mistake of asking St. Gay Of Lima for an update on Dreamboat Blaine, and before he's a full sentence into the endless-seeming rant he proceeds to deliver on the subject, Sarah Jessica Parker looks about as ready to kill herself as I do. Halfway through, she's openly rolling her eyes and loudly sighing with boredom, and it's at this point that I decide I really do like Sarah Jessica Parker after all, so I'm probably going to stop referring to her as a pathetic old hag with no friends. You know, for now. In any event, once St. Gay finally runs out of breath, Sarah Jessica Parker offers him a few words of advice I'll not be bothering to transcribe, and with that, we fly back to...
...the McKinley High music room, where Old Quinn's just now instructing New Quinn to flirt with the Sectionals judges when the time comes, just because. New Quinn gratefully thanks her for the advice and exits just as Santana Lopez enters, and what follows is absolutely delicious. "That bitch is pure evil!" Santana sneers the instant New Quinn has moved out of earshot. "I think she's sweet," Old Quinn protests, all fluttering lashes and beatific smiles and such. "Really?" Santana snorts. "Then why is she giving my girl laxatives?"
Smear sideways to The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, where we find Santana rummaging around in Boring New Idiot Rachel's purse. "Why are you going through my bag?" Boring New Idiot Rachel squeals. "All part of being a mentor," Santana shrugs before confronting Boring New Idiot Rachel with the well-ravaged boxes of cheap off-brand pills Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel has obviously been scarfing down for the last few weeks. "Those are from months ago!" Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel LIES. "I forgot they were even in there!"
Smear back to the present, where Santana confidently asserts, "Pretty Little Liar gave them to her -- I can sense it, thanks to my Psychic Mexican Third Eye." Old Quinn foolishly counters that Santana's merely indulging in a little bit of what her psych professor calls "projecting," claiming, "You're projecting [New Quinn] onto me." Which...doesn't make a whole lot of sense now that I think about it, but whatever. "We've graduated," Old Quinn proceeds to condescend, adding, "It's time we get over this." "Get over what?" Santana demands. "You being jealous of me," Old Quinn stage-whispers, and it. Is. ON!
"And why," Santana ices, "would I be jealous of you? And please don't tell me it's because you're in some lame secret Nazi sorority." Old Quinn replies by smugly mentioning a Jodie Foster clambake she attended back in September -- dirty! -- before bragging about the affair she's currently conducting with that psych professor she mentioned earlier. "He's thirty-five," Old Quinn beams, utterly oblivious, "and he's divorcing his wife, who hasn't touched him for three years." "Twitter update!" Santana bellows. "Quinn is all excited about another guy defining her life!" "And what are you excited about?" Old Quinn acidly retorts. "Shaking pompoms in Kentucky?" she scoffs. "You want everyone to think you're such a badass," she jeers, "but really you're just a scared little girl with low self-esteem who's too frightened to chase her dreams." "Did Professor Patches teach ya that one between quickies on his office couch?" Santana shoots back, never missing a beat. "Does he get so turned on by teen moms who barely visit their kids?" she glints, by now thoroughly enjoying herself. Unfortunately, that's one insult too many for Old Quinn, who promptly slaps the taste out of Santana's mouth. Santana quickly gives back just as good as she got, and they're about to claw each other's eyes out with their exquisitely manicured nails when dear little Brit-Brit stumbles upon the scene to bleat, "What are you guys doing?" "Nothing!" Old Quinn eyebrows after taking a moment to collect herself. "Nothing at all!" And with that, she swans out into the hallway, leaving Santana alone to realize with something more than a mere hint of admiration, "Quinn always was a genius slapper."