Glee

Here's what you missed last week. Emma and Ken are getting married, though she really likes Will.

If we were gonna rank crush-worthy teachers at this school...

you'd be number one with a bullet.

Which Ken's kind of noticed...

which makes him really not like Will.

The whole world knows I'm just a consolation prize to you.

How do you think that makes me feel?

- Also, Terri says she's pregnant. - Wow.

But really she's faking, and Mr. Schuester doesn't know.

This baby's the only reason he's still here.

Will's busy getting the kids ready for sectionals...

where they're up against a school for the deaf.

- I can't hear you. Talk into this ear. Scarlet fever. - You're on!

- And a group of juvie girls. - Aphasia, give Mr. Schuester his wallet back.

But it turns out both of them are really good.

It's like cool epilepsy.

Sue kicked Quinn out of the Cheerios because she's pregnant.

I can't have a pregnant girl on my squad.

- You're a disgrace. - That's not very nice, but neither is Sue.

Those drinks are crap!

- And that's what you missed on... - # Glee #

- Hey, guys. Mind if I join you? - Hmm.

- So, what's with all the primping? - Yearbook pictures.

This is the 50th edition of the McKinley High School Thunderclap.

I'm gonna drop 20 pounds by Friday, look smokin' hot for that photo...

and be down to a trim 210 for the wedding a week Saturday.

Of course the, um... the wedding was gonna be in Hawaii...

but then they told me I couldn't bring my own fruit.

- So... - But sectionals is a week from Saturday.

Oh, man.

Looks like you won't be able to make it, M&M.

I, um... I totally forgot about sectionals.

I'm-I'm sorry. I wanted to go... for the kids.

We are not rescheduling.

The V.F.W. hall is booked till next June.

The only reason this Saturday is available...

is 'cause it's the one-year anniversary of that grisly fish-fry shoot-out.

I got a monster discount. We just got to be out of there before the candlelight vigil.

l-l... I remember.

Oh, my gosh.

Sue? Did someone finally punch you?

Edie. William. You.

Every year when the photos for the Thunderclap come around...

I always elect to have a little work done.

This year I got myself a bit of an eye lift.

And while they were in there, I told them to go ahead and yank out those tear ducts.

Wasn't using 'em. You know, I got a storage unit full of trophies and medallions.

But for the rest of you educators...

these yearbook pictures are really the only concrete proof you have...

that anything you've done in your sorry little lives has made any difference whatsoever.

- - My Cheerios are so excited.

Got 'em on a yam diet. Draws the water out of the skin.

Well, I'm sure my Glee kids are gonna be excited too.

- Well, Glee kids don't get a photo. - What?

- Why is that? - I just had a meeting with Principal Figgins, Eleanor.

And what with all the vandalism of the Glee Club photos over the years...

I convinced him that putting the Glee kids in this year's Thunderclap...

was subjecting the little freaks to more humiliation and ridicule.

Hey, why can't you just accept the fact...

that my kids are gonna take sectionals this year?

- That's not happening. - And stop with the pointless vendetta.

All right, this is so not fair, Sue.

You know, I'm gonna talk to Figgins about this.

Hey, good luck with that.

You know, you three are boring me now. I'm gonna go do something else.

- Where's Rachel? - She's not here yet.

Perfect. Glee Club stands on a delicate precipice.

We have all felt the cold humiliation of a Slushee in the face.

But as of right now, our relative anonymity as a club...

shields us from more severe persecution...

swirlies, patriotic wedgies.

What's a patriotic wedgie?

It's when they hoist you up the flagpole by your undies.

Strangely, it did make me feel more American.

Based on my investigation, I am of the opinion...

that a yearbook photo would only fuel the flames of anti-Glee Club terror.

I've done a little library research.

Peter Geller... Glee Club second tenor, 1998.

He can be seen here with both a drawn-on Hitler mustache and a rice paddy hat.

Shortly after the yearbook came out, Mr. Geller had a nervous breakdown.

He's now the homeless man who sleeps in front of the public library.

- Patches? - Patches.

- He barks at my mom. - Exhibit "B."

Tawny Peterson. Glee Club class of 2000.

Seen here in her photo with a cartoon knife stuck in her head...

in a macabre tableau that in four years would prove eerily prescient.

I think I speak for all of us when I say...

that not having to pose for a yearbook photo might be a blessing in disguise.

I suggest not fighting Figgins's ruling.

Oh, hey, guys. Ah, looking at old Thunderclaps?

- It's really unsettling. - And totally unfair.

Hey, can I borrow one of these?

You know what? This year's Thunderclap is gonna have a Glee Club photo...

with every one of your smiling faces.

You have my word on it.

Schue, I'm doing the Glee Club a solid.

We're denying the opportunity to other children to further humiliate them.

No, no, no. Those kids get up on stage all the time...

no matter what anyone thinks of them... and they perform.

They don't let anyone or anything get to them.

That's something you should encourage. Sue is wrong.

- Fine. I'll give them a photo. - Thank you.

- For $1,000. - What?

That's what it costs.

The yearbook is prime advertising space, Schue.

Frederickson's Funeral Parlor experienced a 1.3% increase in revenue...

after their full-page ad last year in the Thunderclap.

Okay, um...

What about a quarter page? How much does that cost?

$325.

That will buy you enough space for a photo of two members of the Glee Club...

right below the advertisement for Uncle Sandro's Chicken Inside of a Waffle.

- Figgins, that's a lot of money. - It's a compromise, Schue.

Now, I suggest you select the good-looking cheerleader... not the pregnant one...

and the quarterback for the photo...

as their faces are less likely to be scratched out with safety pins.

Mr. Schuester, I'm very sorry to interrupt.

Principal Figgins, as you very well may know, this is my first year in Glee Club...

and I've just been informed that New Directions has not been afforded a yearbook photo.

As you might expect, my two gay dads have a very close relationship...

- with our local branch of the A.C.L. U... - Beat you to the punch, Rachel.

It's all good. We're in the yearbook.

Oh. Fantastic.

Thank you so much.

Make fun of me all you want, but school pictures are everything to me.

They're great practice for getting photographed by the paparazzi.

Invasive as the press may be, stars are dependent on them for their fame...

and I feel I must be prepared.

In order to do so, I join every club I possibly can.

I know you're thinking that I'm just joining all these clubs...

to give off the appearance that I'm involved, known to exist.

But Glee Club is different. I really love Glee.

And I believe in what we stand for.

We've come from behind... dismissed and ridiculed by everyone.

And we've made something of ourselves... something that I'm proud to be a part of...

something I want to be remembered for.

- - I miss my Cheerios uniform.

It made me feel safe, contained.

Even when I was feeling left out...

at least I looked like I was a part of something.

I want my kids to be able to look back at these books and see who I was...

make them proud.

Not the bastard one I'm carrying now, of course.

The ones I'll have when I'm married and ready.

I might not look like the head cheerleader anymore...

but I'm still her on the inside.

Hmm. I'm done playing the victim.

When that cheerleading picture is taken for the yearbook...

I'm gonna be in it and back on the squad...

whether Sue Sylvester likes it or not.

Hey, baby, which one of these ties goes better with my shirt?

- You're blocking the TV, Will. - Oh, come on. I need your help.

- School pictures are coming up. - Oh. Well, in that case, um...

Wear the red one for the teacher photo and the green one for the Glee Club.

It'll pop more when the cool kids deface it.

Yeah. I, uh...

I wanted to talk to you about that.

So Figgins stopped putting the Glee Club photo in the yearbook...

because it always gets vandalized and...

I just feel so bad for the kids. I mean, they work so hard. They deserve to be recognized.

Not being in that book gives the appearance that Glee Club isn't important.

I wanna buy an ad and use it as the Glee Club photo spread.

It's around $300.

Oh, great.

Why don't you take the food out of the refrigerator and just give that to the kids?

Will, that food goes from my mouth right into our baby's belly.

We have a couple hundred bucks left over from selling the Blue Bomber II.

- The answer's no, Will. No. - But if we...

No. No.

No.

Actually, can you wait to cash that until Thursday?

- -

- ## - Kurt, I have a fantastic idea for a club...

that would officially make me the most involved student in the whole school.

I want us to start a "Gay Lesb All."

- I'm sorry? - The Gay Lesbian Alliance.

"Gay Lesb All."

Hey, guys, great news.

Glee Club gets a photo in the Thunderclap.

- Uh-huh. - Whoo!

It's gonna show everyone at the school that Glee Club is on its way up.

When we win regionals, those Claps are going to be collector's items.

All of your classmates are going to be begging for your autographs.

But I had to compromise to do it.

Um, we only get a quarter page in back...

which means we have to pick two team captains to appear in the photo.

So tomorrow we're gonna put it to a vote.

- Exciting, huh? All right. - Yeah!

- Well, we're all here. I guess we should vote. - With your permission...

I have prepared a few words.

- I nominate Rachel. - Second.

All right, let's vote up in this piece.

I got to go hit the gym and load up the "Guns of Puckerone" for the football picture.

Looks like everybody voted for Rachel.

Including Rachel.

- But we need two captains, guys. - Why two?

We're fine with having Rachel represent us in the Thunderclap by herself.

- We'd actually prefer it. -

The worst part is that after all this time, they're still embarrassed to be in Glee Club.

They still see themselves as losers.