...Chez Schue later that evening, where we find Will laboriously translating his impending big number from English to Spanish with the help of a dictionary, and I know I said I shouldn't allow myself to get bogged down by petty, stupid details, but on what planet does this guy get a job as a Spanish teacher without knowing the language? I mean, yeah, if they're doing this to make sure we all know how lousy the American public school system has become over the last couple of decades, fine, but wouldn't something like Will's utter lack of qualifications have come up long before the midway point of this show's third -- third -- season? Are they really running out of ideas this quickly?
Wait. Don't answer that. Let me continue to pretend that there must be better things to come with this series. I want to believe that. I have to believe that.
Oh, who am I trying to kid? I don't believe that at all. What the fuck ever.
ANY-way, Emma presently joins Will on the sofa, and get this: You know those hilariously inappropriate pamphlets we've been seeing from time to time over the last two years? The ones with ridiculous titles that are still just believable enough to work within the context of the world they established for these people way back at the beginning of Season One? Titles like "I Can't Stop Touching Myself" and "Help! I'm In Love With My Stepdad!" and "My Mom's Bipolar And She Won't Stop Yelling"? Yeah, turns out we were never meant to believe they were professionally produced. No, seems that Crazy Emma's been writing them herself this entire time, which not only takes all the air out of the one successful running gag they still had going, it also makes me rage in ways that are difficult for my poor, battered brain to grasp at this late hour, so I'll just say this: Fuck you, Glee. FUCK YOU.
GAH! GOD, I hate this show.
In any event, Emma solicits Will's thoughts on her latest set of now simply inappropriate pamphlets, and because he's so preoccupied with Mrs. Hagberg's magically transferable tenure, he turns into a complete dick about the whole thing, and Emma stomps off into this evening's next commercial break in an understandable huff, because her fiancé sucks almost as much as the show he's on.
We return to dive right in to a full performance of this forgettable Madonna single, as graciously provided by the smoking-hot Santana Lopez with a major assist from Ricky Martin's Hips. And the most amusing part of the entire sequence by far involves watching Puck's obviously stoned reaction to the laser light show now exploding above Santana and Ricky Martin's heads as they shimmy their way around The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion's expansive stage. Hee. In any event, when it's over, Ricky Martin excuses himself to grade some papers, or something, allowing Santana the opportunity to invite Mr. Schue up onto the stage for his impending big number, but before we get to that, it's time for...another commercial break!