Glee

So here's what you missed on Glee:

Sue's pregnant, which is crazy...

I had my eggs frozen in the late '70s.

...and she won't say who the father is,

but insists that he's famous.

Rachel and Finn decided to get married

after Regionals, where the New Directions

beat Sebastian and the Warblers and a madrigal group

that just sort of made everyone uncomfortable.

And Sebastian made up with Blaine after he realized

life's too short to blind people with rock salt.

Quinn thought Rachel and Finn were too young to get married,

and refused to go to the wedding.

...which makes me really sad, because I would have loved

to have seen you in a bridesmaid's dress, Quinn.

...but then changed her mind and started texting

while she raced to the courthouse,

and her car got hit by a truck.

And that's what you missed on Glee!

So do you think if Quinn hadn't gotten into her accident,

we still would've gone through with the wedding? Yeah, totally.

Totally. I mean, I'm kind of glad we're waiting.

Now it doesn't have to be a Justice of the Peace quickie.

Hey, I was thinking since Nationals

are in Chicago this year,

we-we should have the wedding someplace special.

Like-like on the pitcher's mound of Wrigley Field.

O-Or someplace else. It's not that, it's Quinn.

I can't stop thinking about her. She's...

Right behind you.

Hi, Quinn! We missed you so much.

No, don't.

I could have easily become one of those creepy memorial pages

in the yearbook, but by the grace of God, I'm here.

Believe it or not...

this is the happiest day of my life.

Come on, Artie. I'll race you to the choir room.

(Elton John's "I'm Still Standing" begins)

Here's a lesson for your board, Mr. Shue.

Don't text and drive. Ever.

It's the stupidest thing I've ever done.

Besides sleeping with Puck.

There's a lot of rumors floating around, so let's clear the air.

First of all, all my plumbing still works, which is awesome.

But my spine was severely compressed in the car accident,

which basically means I can't move my feet or legs.

But the good thing is that

I'm starting to regain feeling,

so with a lot of physical therapy, and your prayers,

I stand a good chance for a full recovery.

So no tears.

That means you, Tina.

Oh, and I apologize for the number.

My dance moves aren't as smooth as Artie's yet.

With practice, they will be.

I promise that by the time we go to Nationals,

I'll be out of this chair,

and dancing on that stage.

All right.

Whoo!

I'm sorry, I...

I don't think I understand what you just told me.

I said, I'm making swim coach Roz Washington

co-coach of the Cheerios!

How can you do this to me?

I think I can answer that question.

This Saturday the Cheerios! had Regionals tournament.

You were 15 minutes late. That's unacceptable.

I had a doctor's appointment.

Oh... I know. The doctor had to shine

a flashlight in your va-jay-jay to get all the bats to fly out.

I understand that keeping bats out of your womb

is an important part of having a baby when you're older than God.

But it is no way to win a national championship. Sue...

The lovely and talented bronze medalist

Roz Washington has a point.

We need the money and sponsorships that only

a national championship can bring to the school,

and your condition is compromising your work.

It's settled. My word is law.

This will not stand!

Oh, it's gonna stand.

And you know what else is gonna stand?

Your fully-grown, adult baby

when he pops out of your birth canal, before he hurries off

to the high-powered law firm where he has just made partner.

So take your Centrum Silver, and your old ass,

and find a new dream.

What if I can guarantee you a national championship?

And how will you do that?

The Glee Club. If they win at Nationals,

the school wins a $10,000 cash prize.

I get you that money,

I get to run the cheerleading program alone!

Five, six, seven, eight!

Stop! Please, stop!

This is an embarrassment.

Hey, Mercedes. Who you texting?

I'm not texting anyone,

I'm donating to the Obama campaign...

My Droid!

Good news! I booked a tour at the Railroad Museum on Friday,

which means we're gonna have an awesome Senior's Ditch Day.

What is she doing here? Hey, Granny Panties!

I'm taking over Booty Camp1

Why on earth do you want to run Booty Camp?

Because, as I established, I want to help you win Nationals.

And I am a champion who can whip that squad

of pear-shaped teens into shape.

You're out of shape, you're constantly late,

and when you're not too busy texting,

you're complaining about

the choreography you're too lazy to learn.

You're nothing but a coven of tardy,

narcissistic, bloated bags of cellulite

who will stab each other in the back

at the first glimpse of a solo

in a competition hosted by a late-night horror movie host.

Well, those days are over.

Sue?

We need to talk about what happened at Booty Camp.

Oh, you mean my epic smack down of the glee club over their

complete apathy and lack of professionalism?

According to the kids, you were typical abusive

belligerent self, only more so.

I just got this e-mail from Kurt.

"Mr. Shue, save us!

Coach Sue is meaner than Tabatha!" First of all,

I have absolutely no idea who Porcelain is referring to.

I'm assuming it's gay and niche.

Secondly, based on the pathetic display

I just saw?

Your glee club's back-to-back victories were flukes.

Oh... Against Vocal Adrenaline?

On the national stage?

You'll be like lambs to the slaughter.

Why are you resisting my help, William?

We should try to inspire and encourage

our kids, Sue, not humiliate and crush them.

I don't get it.

You were acting like you had turned over a new leaf.

William... I'm near the end of my first trimester.

I'm wildly hormonal, riding out

massive, unpredictable mood swings.

Stop trying to understand my actions.

Maybe you should talk to your doctor

about adjusting your medication? Oh, I'll ask.

I'm going there this week to confirm the sex of my daughter.

Mm! Oh, Sue! That's a mother-to-be

single most important doctor visit. Who's going with you?

Same person who's going to help me raise this child,

Barbara Gordon. No one.

We'll... Sue, you can't go alone.

No, you need a friend there, for moral support.

I agree.

We'll go with you.

You okay?

You seem a little preoccupied.

Oh, well, my brother's in town.

He's picking me up, taking me out to lunch.

Blaine, that's exciting!

I finally get to meet this mysterious brother of yours,

who you refuse to talk about.

I'm dying to know what he looks like.

Oh, trust me, you...

you already know what he looks like.

Blainie!