Season 3, Episode 4, “Pot O’ Gold”
It’s been a long time, spider monkeys, so you might want to check out last episode’s gleecap for a plot refresher.
So the episode starts out with Rory (The Glee Project‘s Damian), who is a bundle of Irish-y goodness, with his lovely green eyes and his rich Irish accent. Not only does Brittany have no idea what he’s saying, she thinks he’s a leprechaun and is bargaining to give her three wishes to grant him access to her . . . pot of gold. So Rory, playing along, spends free period creating all-marshmallow Lucky Charms to give her the yummiest box of magical deliciousness ever. Then he gets shoved into a locker and sings “It’s Not Easy Being Green” (groan for overly twee song choice here) before joining the New Directions.
In this episode, Santana is a blend of equal parts adorable semi-closet case (Hey Brit! Let’s hold hands under this napkin) and psychopath (Hey Brit! Let’s pretend leprechauns are real because, although it might be psychologically damaging to you, I’d really like you to join the new all-female glee club because I think I can run that show, but I’d like to have you and a napkin close by if I ever feel like a little PG-13 hand holding action).
Quinn, on the other hand, has left the world of semi-psychotic far behind and is packing her bags for the fairytale land of felony! She gets Shelby, the adoptive mother of Beth (Quinn’s baby), to hire her as a baby-sitter and then proceeds to plant such gems around Shelby’s house as packets of baby botulism, the book Basics of Baby Sacrifice, and a bottle of hot sauce labeled for the baby, Beth. When Puck finally realizes that Quinn has Jack-Sawyer-Hurley-and-Sayid-capital-L-LOST her marbles, Quinn’s best defense is that Beth is perfect, and Quinn deserves something perfect. It all seems a little Black Swan-meets-Gollum for my taste, but whatevs. A baby mama got to do what a baby mama got to do.
And in the BEST IDEA GLEE HAS EVER HAD, Burt Hummel is now running against Sue Sylvester for Congress. My reaction to Burt’s campaign was somewhere between “Oh, baby Gaga, yes!” and “Never since Aladdin’s nippleless chest have I inappropriately loved a fictional character more.”
Music this episode? Meh. Criss’s rendition of “Friday Night” was predictably poppy, if not as mind-blowing as his other Katy Perry venture, “Teenage Dream.” What’s coming next week? Apparently, smut, smut, and more smut. So Finchel fans, Klainers, and who knows? Maybe even Schubeistes can rejoice next Tuesday.