Brittany recruits Artie to be her vice-presidential candidate for this year’s student body president election because she really wants to secure the Cylon vote. He explains for the dozenth time that he’s not a robot, and she giggles because she thinks he’s making another one of those jokes about how they dated. He says he’ll be the Cheney to her Bush, and he’s for real, because he is the most power-hungry teenager since Tom Riddle. But Brittany takes the analogy to a whole other place, saying she’d rather be called “landing strip” if that’s the route they’re going with their nicknames.
Brittany announces her candidacy and running mate during glee practice while Sam stares at her with wide-eyed longing, like the way your face gets when a basket of puppies pops up on your Tumblr dashboard. Mr. Schue also has an announcement: Because New Directions won Nationals, McKinley gets to host the show choir chair committee meeting this year. Things get real meta real fast: The kids are like, “Ask them why some groups get to sing six songs and some groups get to sing only one. Ask them what half-vintage means.” Jake channels Puck and thinks maybe they should practice for these fabled “Nationals,” a suggestion that sends Will into an existential crisis because he’s slap out of ideas. (I’ve got an idea: Call Quinn and find out if she’s alive!)
Sam follows Brittany out of the choir room, still looking at her with basket-of-puppies eyeballs. She explains that she didn’t choose him for her veep because she doesn’t want to ruin their friendship like what happened to John McCain and his granddaughter Sarah Palin, but she does set him up to be running mates with Blaine. Blaine’s not really feeling it until Sam explains that he can carry the poor vote, the straight vote, and the people-who-like-impressions joke. Blaine agrees to the matchup, partly because Sam is still making that face, and partly because he kind of doesn’t know anyone else in the whole school. Brittany challenges them to a debate and Sam accepts, but then pulls Blaine into a sidebar where he wonders, “What’s a debate?”
Kurt interns his way through his first Vogue pitch meeting, the subject of which is “leather in unexpected ways.” Kurt is horrified by the staffers’ ideas. Leather socks. Leather knickers. The one that really makes his eyes bug out of his head is “a belt as punishment, a belt as reward,” which only goes to show you that he hasn’t dug very far into the Klaine tag over at fanfiction.net. After the meeting, Isabelle asks Kurt what he thought of the ideas, and he’s like, “Look, one time I wore a canary feather duster as a belt. I have a collection of hand-knitted wool ponchos and boleros. I’ve never ridden a horse, but I own at least three riding helmets. One year, my whole deal was tartan meets von Trapp. So I don’t say this lightly: Those ideas sucked.” She breaks down about being a failure and a fraud and Kurt flips to Rachel Containment Mode faster than you can say “leopard spotted smoking jacket.” (Never forget.)
Artie has taken a straw poll and determined that most of the people who are coming to the debate are hoping to hear Brittany say something dumb. He feels the air around him shift and crackle and he realizes Santana has employed her lesbian superpower of feelings intuition from all the way down in Louisville and she knows he just hurt Brittany’s feelings and so now she’ll be teleporting onto the scene to choke him to death with her bare hands in a matter of seconds. He covers by blurting out a breathless: “Your brain exists in this magical other dimension where anything is possible! It’s really amazing! We just need to focus on a little preparation!” Santana is appeased. Artie will live another day. Meanwhile, Blaine tells Sam to be a “serious candidate,” so he does his best John Wayne impression.
Time for our first makeover! Sam and Brittany sing “Celebrity Skin” like how you would sing “Celebrity Skin” three and a half beers into Friday night karaoke after a real shitty week at work, all mad and loud and growl-y and embarrassingly earnest. That’s not important. What’s important is that we get the first of two shirtless Overstreets, and Heather Morris looks like the kind of librarian that makes me want to explore the theme of leather in unexpected ways.
At NYADA, a couple of Plastics in Rachel’s dance class mock her fashion sensibility, which leads us to makeover number two! Over Chinese takeout on the floor of their Bushwick loft, which still doesn’t house any furniture apparently, Rachel laments her country girl street style to Kurt. It’s midnight. He’s been working for Vogue for exactly one day. So of course he’s like, “Let’s just break into the vault and gussy you right up!” Isabelle catches them, nearly has them shot by a couple of literal fashion police, but she susses out the word “makeover” in Kurt and Rachel’s frantic explanatory babbling, so she gives them a pass. Actually, to her credit, the only time SJP does the full Carrie Bradshaw in this episode is when her face gets orgasmic and her voice goes, “You had me at ‘makeover.’”