"What's gotten into you?" Kurt mumbles around a mouthful of junk food. "I don't know," Rachel admits, "but do you remember in high school, when everything felt so urgent? Like if we didn't just go for it, we'd lose our chance forever?" "Yes," Kurt snorts with vast amounts of disdain, adding, "It was very stressful." "I want to feel that way again," Rachel insists, basically ignoring him once more, so Kurt puts his thinking cap on, and he eventually guesses, "Does this have something to do with [your dead ex-boyfriend]? "If part of my grieving process is diving headfirst into life," Rachel regally allows, "then maybe." Kurt eyes her for a moment or so, then decides, "All right -- you got me: Let's go out and do something crazy." "Like what?" Rachel demands. "Let's go use flash photography at the Met!" Kurt excitedly suggests. "Small potatoes," Rachel pffts almost instantly before suggesting, "How about we break out the bottle of limoncello you've been saving up?" "What for?" Kurt grins. "Anesthesia!" Rachel cryptically replies with a broad smile of her own, and I think it's safe to say we should all be preparing ourselves for some extremely wacky hijinks in the very near future, presumably after this evening's first commercial break. Joy.
And look at that! Wacky hijinks! Unfortunately, they don't involve The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway and St. Gay Of Lima. Yet. No, instead we find ourselves over in the WOHN newsroom with Rod Remington and Andrea Carmichael, the latter of whom apparently recovered quite nicely from her nervous breakdown earlier this year, thank you very much. For his part, Rod lets us know that "both orangutans have been charged with solicitation and impersonating a police officer" before he throws things over to Principal Sylvester for the latest installment of "Sue's Corner." Sue, naturally, wastes little time launching herself into the following tirade: "America, tonight I address a nation at war. Now, I'm not referring to Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad, who gassed his own people when they began to make fun of his extremely hilarious lisp. No, this nation faces a far more insidious foe: Miley Cyrus and the genital-flapping dance known as 'twerking' that makes men and women alike look like overgrown, constipated toddlers. This vulgar, sexually explicit excuse for a dance craze has brought American culture to a new low, and that's why tonight, Western Ohio, I solemnly pledge to end the pandemic of twerking once and for all!" Not only will Principal Sylvester outlaw twerking at McKinley High effective immediately, she's also submitted a bill to the Ohio legislature that would ban the dance from all schools statewide. "And Hannah Montana," Sue continues, "can go back to naked-straddling the three-ton wrecking ball she was clearly upsold at Home Depot, as the tiny cinderblock room she's elected to demolish is only about twelve square feet and already has a wall missing." And that's how Sue sees it.