- TV Show
- Current Status
- In Season
- run date
- Jane Lynch, Lea Michele, Matthew Morrison, Chris Colfer
- Comedy, Music
Did this seem like a completely jam-packed hour to anyone else?
After I finish watching Glee each week, I usually take a minute to review in my head, and this week, I was unable to do so without my notes because it really felt like three episodes rolled into one. We had Santana going through a major character development, Blaine trying to help Kurt become educated about sex, and Holly Holliday back in the fold. That’s not even mentioning the Celibacy Club, Puck/Lauren, and Emma/Carl. Jeez. No wonder it felt like the hour flew by, and here I was operating under the assumption that time simply flies when there’s sex on the brain.
Well, let’s be honest, that’s part of it, too. So let’s fly through this episode one more time together, shall we?
The episode began with a meeting of the three-member Celibacy Club, which consisted of Rachel (who had joined to keep her mind off Finn and her focus on songwriting), Quinn (who also joined to de-Finn — but it didn’t last), and newlywed Emma (who, despite four months of marriage, still found herself among the ranks fighting the good fight against the evil hose monster). Celibacy, readers! Do you dig it?!?
Fine. No celibacy charms for you.
Elsewhere, Holly Holliday was back. And “yikers,” gang, she was really back in a big way, meaning she was in every other scene this week! Will, who apparently liked her face so much he had to grab it, was happy about that. Emma, meanwhile, was less excited to see her. And I was somewhere in between.
Holly and Emma clashed on their approaches to teaching the kids about sex — Emma was stumping for the no-humping, and Holliday thought that teens realistically would never adhere to celibacy. “That’s like saying vegetarianism is an option for lions,” she said, obviously forgetting that Simba learned how to live meat-free in The Lion King. (Disney is totally real-life and don’t tell me otherwise, or I’ll pull a Kurt and stick my fingers in my ears while humming. Mmk?) According to Holly, information is power, but she told giggling schoolboy Schuester that if that were the case, his kids wouldn’t have enough voltage to operate an electric can opener. (Finn thought cucumbers could give you AIDS, and Mercedes was suddenly concerned about the salad she’d just consumed.) Hakuna Matata, said Schue. But he soon changed his tune.
In a related plot, Santana tried to woo Brittany with Sweet Valley High and the promise of cuddle time in hopes they could spend some time getting their sweet lady kisses on. But Brittany was reluctant…because she thought she was with child. Once the initial shock wore off, we realized this was Brittany, and by “bun in the oven,” she could mean many things. Like maybe she was literally baking bread, or maybe she’d bought a new doll that she was mistaking for a real baby. Instead, we learned that a stork had built a nest on her garage, and she thought that meant she was getting a baby. (Rachel’s face here was priceless!) Schue and his fine man-butt realized Holly and her side ponytail had a point and immediately made a (musical!) sex education lesson plan (because that’s definitely the job of the choir teacher, as Rachel pointed out).
Over at the coffee shop, Sue tracked down Blaine and Kurt to give them Regionals intel: Glee was going sexy! Well, that’s what she’d deduced from seeing the word “sexy” on the board in the choir room. After making the most confusing cup of coffee ever, she took off, leaving Blaine worried that the Warblers were lacking a sexy factor (false) and they needed some retooling. That was easier said than done for some, namely the sexy-challenged Kurt, whose “sexy” played more like “gas pain,” according to Blaine. Personally, I’d say it was more akin to watching a Charmin bear attempt a striptease. He’s too adorable to be sexy. (It happens.) But perhaps that’s my perception because we’ve watched him grow up on Glee, and part of me still sees him as little Kurt. Anyone else feel that way? Ugh. I digress.
NEXT: A new (vulnerable!?) side of Santana