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“Glee” Episode 312 Recap: Ay Dios Mio!

Note: I’m subbing in for Christie Keith who was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with critical second-hand embarrassment last night after watching Will Schuester gyrate around in a matador costume. Just kidding. Christie is on vacation, but she’ll be back next week just in time for the Glee Valentine’s Day extravaganza!

Previously on Glee, Ryan Murphy hammered the gavel he keeps on his nightstand and declared, “Season 3 will be a season of stories, not stunt-casting!” But lo, The Boy Who Lived concluded his run on Broadway and a StarKid was summoned in his stead. A conundrum: According to The Code, at least seven AfterElton.com Hot 100 contenders must appear in every given episode of Glee. With Darren Criss succeeding in business, how could the quota be filled? An answer: Ricky Martin.

Honestly, you guys, it’s like Glee‘s production team just scrolled through the Hot 100, all, “Regular cast member, regular cast member, guest star, guest star, Anderson’s too busy with the election – oh, hey, how about number ten here, Ricky Martin?”

How about it.

Mr. Schue is doing his yearly rendition of “La Cucaracha,” shaking his maracas and feeling all right, until he notices every student in his Spanish class – like every person in America – staring at him with open disdain and incredulity. Things get real meta real fast. He’s like, “Wasn’t there a time, like back in season one, when people thought I was great? When I wasn’t forced to wear silly costumes and say ridiculous things and generally act like an asshole?” I am inclined to say yes. Santana is inclined to say no.

Naomi, Emily: What do you guys think?

Principal Figgins calls Will into his office for a bit of reprimanding and lets it slip that there’s a tenured teaching position opening up. Which: Ha. Ha! HA TO INFINITY! Everyone is tenured at McKinley High. Sue has buried at least 100 bodies under the bleachers in the gym. NeNe Leakes drowns students in the pool on the regular. Emma steals cleaning supplies and stockpiles them in storage lockers all around town in case of some sort of germ Apocalypse. Coach Beiste keeps a flock of chickens for slaughtering just outside the football field house. And Will finds new ways to be criminally insufferable every week. No one gets fired at this school. In fact, I’ll prove it to you: Let us now engage in a drinking game in which we take shots every time a teacher commits a fireable offense. Two shots if the offense is also a felony in the state of Ohio.

Will decides to go to night school to learn some things and be introduced to this week’s agent of existential crisis, Mr. David Martinez, a Spanish instructor with the face of an angel and the mental alacrity of a Fox & Friends host. He explains that Americans will all be speaking Spanish by the year 2030, which is, of course, absurd. By 2030, we’ll all have our own personal hoverboard, a gadget that will make our lives so complete we’ll have no need to communicate with other human beings.

After class, Will takes David our for a drink – coffee for Will, fluoride for David – and explains how it just occurred to him that he should learn Spanish so he can teach Spanish. [DRINK!] He works New Directions into the conversation like he always does, like when your friend just started dating someone and finds a way to mention her no matter if you’re talking about pizza toppings or nuclear proliferation. (“You know who loves pepperoni? Sarah. Siiiiigh.” “You know who hates having at atomic bomb dropped on her head in the middle of the night? Sarah. Siiiiiigh.”) David is like, “I’ve always wanted to start a glee club.” And Will goes, “You should. Back when I was cool – no, really. Stop laughing. I had a following and everyth – fine, whatever. The point is, a couple of years ago, I spent my whole life worrying about whether or not we’d have enough students to compete in Regionals, but these days McKinley can sustain any number of glee clubs. You should make one.”

Speaking of creating things, Sue Sylvester is going to have herself a baby. Since the one thing she cannot do with her scientifically superior body is create sperm, she is propositioning the fine fellows of New Directions to choke their chickens on her behalf. [DRINK!] [BONUS FELONY DRINK!] When they don’t rise to the occasion (sorry), Sue decides to hit up Will for some of his DNA. She even offers him access to her own personal spank bank [DRINK!], which includes magazines bearing her image on the cover. Sue bounces before Will vomits because Principal Figgins has summoned her.

Waiting for Sue in Figgins’ office is NeNe Leakes. In another surprising turn of meta-ness (or maybe the writers are just tripping into self-reference tonight), NeNe gets is Sue’s face about how her acerbic, ludicrous deal is played and now it’s NeNe’s time to shine. Figgins just giggles and rests his head in his hands and gazes adoringly at NeNe.

Then, realizing we’re ten minutes into the episode and nothing has happened that anyone gives a s–t about, Glee‘s editor allows us a moment to rest our head in our hands and gaze lovingly at Santana.

Will rushes into the choir room and starts spewing whatever random propaganda he overheard in the last 24 hours [DRINK!] and today it happens to be that Spanish-speaking people are taking over the world, and if these kids are ever going to impress their Latin overlords they’re going to need to know how to sing Spanish as well as speak it. I’m not even kidding. Santana is like, “… the hell are you saying?” And he’s all, “Just my usual bulls–t, but this week it’s culturally relevant!”

David Martinez arrives on cue, and things are about to get so weird you’re going to wish you were trolleyed already from our drinking game, but you won’t be.

OK, then Ricky Martin thrusts all around [DRINK!] singing LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It” [DRINK!] and the glee kids hoot and holler like everything and there are push-ups and ass-slaps and Finn tries to wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah. Too far, Finn! TOO FAR! Guys, just cover your ears and concentrate on Brittany’s many faces and it’ll be over soon.

I love Emma Pillsbury. Like a lot. But what is going on with her hair in this episode? Her forehead as big as the moon. She reminds of me that Kristen Wiig character with the crazy hand. Do you know what I’m talking about? Am I going to hell now? Well, anyway, she’s counseling Mercedes and Sam about their torrid affair, and as fate would have it, she just got her new pamphlets back from the printer. For Mercedes: “So You’re a Two-Timin’ Ho?” [DRINK!] and for Sam: “So You’re Dating a Two-Timin’ Ho?” [DRINK!] (Chord Overstreet is so funny. He’s got the second-best comedic timing of any dude on this show. I’m so glad he came back.) Emma advises them to stay apart so they can listen to their hearts, and they agree it’s a good idea, even though Sam won’t stop in his quest to make “Mercedes smells good” a trending topic on Twitter.

Heather Morris, like Dianna Agron and Jenna Ushkowitz, may not be allowed to talk on this show anymore, but at least she gets a full 20 seconds to krump.

Dang diggy dang indeed. You try to figure out the point of this scene. I’m just going to sit here on rewind.

I don’t know if it’s because I’ve actually been playing my own drinking game while rewatching this episode for the recap, or if it’s because I’m from Atlanta so I feel a natural affinity for my hometown Housewives, or if it really is true that casting NeNe Leakes was the most accidentally awesome thing this show has ever done, but her reaction to Sue’s confession that she’s trying to have a baby slays me.

Sue: I am getting pregnant and then I am having a baby.

Nene Leakes: With whose vagina?! Sue, you can’t have a baby! You are old as the hills! You won’t give birth to a child; you’ll give birth to a grand child. You’re gonna get in those stirrups and push and push, and a full-grown adult is gonna pop out with a briefcase and a job, talking on a cell phone!

If you watched The Real Housewives of Atlanta, you’d know she probably ad-libbed that whole thing. There’s lots of discussion in the African-American community about the caricature of NeNe w/r/t the media construction of Black womanhood. And it’s totally a valid conversation. But damn, that woman can deliver a line. My favorite thing she ever said on Housewives was, “I’m a size ten. I could be a size eight, but I’m f–king hungry.”

Continuing with the theme of centuries-old-people having babies, Rachel, Mercedes, and Kurt are watching Twilight: Breaking Dawn. Mercedes doesn’t see how a lady could ever choose between a werewolf and a vampire – good thing she’s not on Pretty Little Liars then, huh? – when both of them love her so much. Rachel bolts from the bed shouting about, “I’m sorry, but we’re halfway through this episode and I haven’t made it about me yet, so here goes: Finn proposed!” Mercedes just reaches up and smacks her in the face and Kurt thinks he should go home and do the same to Finn. Rachel is like, “Kurt, calm down. What would you do if Blaine proposed?” And he’s like, “I’d clean up the exploding head of Klaine fandom and then say yes, of course.”

Mercedes Apparates to the chorus room where everyone is waiting to hear her sing about her feelings. Amber Riley has never not given me chills when she gets a solo. I don’t know what she’s saying, but I know it means “Let’s canoodle” and that’s what Brittany and Santana do.

Chord Overstreet does mad justice to Enrique Iglesias in some “Mexican hipster boots,” which are the only reason Kurt would ever agree to be part of any kind of line-dancing high jinx.

Santana calls out Schue and says he should probably man up and do something Latin too, on account of trying to prove he’s a worthy Spanish teacher and all that.

It isn’t often that you find Sue and Will and Finn in the same boat, but they’re all aboard the SS Pathetic tonight, sinking in the Sea of Desperation. Probably Will is the one who’s going to drown though. Emma decides to save Sue, tossing her a life raft in the form of a pamphlet called “Not Gonna Bang My Fiance’s Wang” or something. Sue’s like, “Fair enough, even though I wanted my kid to have the hair of a woolly mammoth and the optimism of the gayest unicorn.” Funnily enough, that’s exactly what Finn says when Kurt confronts him about proposing to Rachel. That and, “I feel like I’m going to be trapped in Lima Heights forever, so I thought I’d force Rachel to stay here and keeping me comapny.” It’s very romantic.

And here’s the reason Will’s going to sink to the bottom of the ocean and be eaten alive by sharks: He’s a real wanker to Emma. She always only ever believes in him and puts up with his tedious crap and listens to him sing, and when she gives him a pamphlet that could really help him out – “So You’re The Worst, But People Love You Anyway” – he crumples it up and throws it in her face and shouts about how he’s a caveman and she’s a cavelady and how is he going to kill a boar with his bare hands and feed their baby if he doesn’t get this tenure. Emma goes, “For starters, I can take care of myself, thanks. And for another thing, the full matador costume you have laid out in the bedroom is slightly racist and Santana Lopez is going to cut off your balls if you wear it to school. Just a heads up.”

Does he heed her advice? Of course he doesn’t.

But first! One thing we see a lot in the forums at AfterElton and AfterEllen are people asking how to know if they’re gay. Finally, we have conceived a test that will reveal your sexual identity with 100 percent accuracy. Step One – Watch Ricky Martin and Naya Rivera perform “La Isla Bonita.”

Step Two – Answer the following question: Who got you pregnant? There is now a baby inside you and that baby was sired by one of those guys via the means of dancing and singing and sex-rays coming through the TV. Just figure out who impregnated you and you’ll know your sexual orientation. Congratulations!

Now, close your legs (as NeNe Leakes would say) and gird your loins. You don’t want to accidentally find yourself carrying Will’s matador child. Will decides Elivs’ death wasn’t traumatic enough the first time, so he goes ahead and kills him again with the most horrific rendition of “A Little Less Conversation” you have ever heard in your life. Just when you think it can’t get worse unless a meteor falls from the sky and engulfs your living room in flames, Mike and Brittany gallop onto stage dressed like bulls, and run around snorting and pawing at the ground and it is the worst goddamn thing this show has ever done. Including Terri’s fake pregnancy. I’ll take a hundred more imaginary baby storylines if Schue will exit the stage right now and set himself on fire.

He won’t, but don’t worry. After he’s done thrashing around, Santana burns him to the ground WITH HER WORDS. He’s like, “Why aren’t you clapping for me? Did you turn me into Figgins for sucking? Everyone loves me!” And she’s all, “They’re clapping because they don’t know you’re an idiot, which is your fault by the way, because you’re supposed to teach them things. Why don’t you just dress up like Speedy Gonzales and run around yelping, ‘”¡Ándele! ¡Ándele! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba! ¡Epa! ¡Epa! ¡Epa! Yeehaw!'” God, Naya Rivera. And by that I mean: Naya Rivera is my God. 

Emma’s latest crusade is to teach teenage boys how to wash their scrotums [DRINK!] [BONUS FELONY DRINK!] and Coach Beiste is bursting with pride. Some if it gets on Will when he skulks into lunchroom, but he dusts it off and wallows around in his own misery some more. I mean, dude. When the football coach at your high school has to convince you to appreciate the spectacularness of your fiance, you don’t deserve to marry her. Also, you don’t deserve to marry her because: 

Will goes back to night school to offer David his job as Spanish teacher. He’s like, “No need to apply, guy. No need for a background check. Just show up in the morning at 8:00 in room 213 and start teaching my students for me.” [DRINK!] But what’s Will going to teach? Oh, any old thing. Whatever. History, math, literature. In Ohio, you don’t have to be certified to teach a specific thing. Today: calculus. Tomorrow: sex ed. Just go where the wind blows you. 

Becky is giving Sue some fertility injections [DRINK!] and confessing to turning her into Figgins for being a crappy teacher. Not “crappy” in the sense that she kills students and eats them for breakfast. That part is OK. The thing that’s crappy is that she’s let her cannibalism get in the way of her coaching. Sue agrees that it’s true, that if she’s not careful her storylines are going to get worse than Will’s. She says she’ll work on it. And I hope she does. I can’t bear the thought of Jane Lynch falling out of favor.

After school, Sam and Mercedes are finally free to confess their love to one another, except for the part where Mercedes’ boyfriend wallops Sam on the head like whack-a-mole and takes Mercedes to lunch.

At home, Will apologizes to Emma and Emma forgives him. “I’m glad we were able to resolve this conflict in one week,” she says. “We had to,” he replies. “The Valentine’s Day episode is next week and it’s reserved for couples viewers are actually still rooting for.”

Next week: Kurt gets a gorilla-o-gram(?)! Brittany and Santana finally get their snog on. And Tumblr literally explodes.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, that drinking game got me real drunk and I need a nap. 

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