The Break Up

Episode Report Card
Demian: A | 4 USERS: A-
The Breakup(s)
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

The camera snaps open in the middle of the McKinley High cafeteria, where it dodges through a throng of horny, ass-slapping teenagers until it lands on Boring New Rachel, who takes just a second too long to hide her reduced-price lunch tickets from the prying eyes of the just-arriving New Puck. Oops! No worries, though, because he's been on the same meal plan ever since his single mom had to abandon her real estate career thanks to the ongoing Bush recession, and they chit-chat about Mama New Puck's struggles for a bit, but I find it incredibly difficult to pay attention to the words spilling from their mouths because she's boring as hell and he's absolutely adorable. Swoon! He's also younger than nearly all of my nieces and nephews, so I'll be skipping ahead to the bit where the camera...

...whips around to scuttle on over to a distant table, where it finds Brit-Brit and Dreamboat Blaine staring wistfully at the flirty little indigents across the room. "Young love!" Brit-Brit sighs. "Do you remember," Dreamboat Blaine responds, waxing nostalgic, "when you first started dating Santana, and I started dating Kurt, back before everyone was so busy and far away, and things were so much simpler?" "We had so much more hope and innocence," he continues, sounding more than a little bit sad, "and every day was just like Valentine's Day." "We're still young," Brit-Brit points out by way of reply. "Shouldn't we still be experiencing those things?" Short answer: Yes. Long answer: The rest of this episode, which will begin immediately after we pass through this evening's title card.

Improbably Bohemian Bushwick Loft. St. Gay Of Lima stands in the kitchen, frying up some eggs while sporting several hundred dollars' worth of clothing that should never, ever be worn in such close proximity to spitting grease. Soon enough, Idiot Rachel and her ugly new hairstyle -- accompanied by approximately sixteen pounds of eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss -- enter from their bedroom for an early-morning mopefest, and long story short, she reveals that she and the freshly-arrived Frankenteen spoke barely three words to each other the entire evening. Which is a terribly convenient excuse for the exposition dump said Frankenteen proceeds to take all over their nice hardwood floors the minute he, too, arrives from the bedroom, but I think I'm getting ahead of myself. So, Frankenteen lumbers into the kitchen and, after St. Gay discreetly excuses himself, Idiot Rachel gets down to business like so: "I don't understand what's going on. Why are you here, and why aren't you in your uniform?" "Because I'm not in the army," Frankenteen unhesitatingly replies, and we quickly smear sideways to...

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