The car pulls past long stretches of stately, big, suburban, white houses, coming to rest on one stately, big, suburban, white house. Inside, Bob and Kelly Jo meet four screaming women of intergenerational breadth and scope. Kelly Jo's mother leaps right into Bob's arms. Her tight, sunflower-patterned Capris lift off the ground and wrap around him, which isn't that much farther to travel, seeing as that outfit looks like it got lost in the background of the Tampa segment and just happened to end up here. Bob also makes real nice with Kelly Jo's grandmother, who has a nickname that is either "Hooka" or "Booka" or "Pookah." I think it's a very soft "P." Kelly Jo's mom is immediately socially boozy, and we cut to her sitting at Bob's feet (for where else should this kingly subject be expected to supplicate herself, after all), asking him, "What did you think of Kelly when she first got out of the limo?" And the only really notable part of this interaction is that you can tell from her body language that she's expecting anything that comes out of Bob's mouth to be heeeee-larious, and so she's a bit nonplussed when he actually answers the question sincerely, and she has to sit back on her haunches and listen to him talk. Bummer. Lacking class, Bob immediately volunteers that he and Kelly kissed on the first night. The family reacts with it's-meant-to-be hushed tones, but the true originality would be if he suddenly showed up at, say, Shea the firefighter's house and was all, "Actually, what's really amazing if that your daughter is only person who I did not kiss that first night." Or those twins. Remember them? Yeah, me neither.
Kelly Jo keeps her emotions locked inside the confessional room where they damn well belong, telling us, "It does suck having my dad not there to meet the man that I could spend the rest of my life with." Back in the living (or is it the dying?) room, Grandma Hooka Chaka dabs her eyes with a tissue and proclaims, "Joey would love you." Careful with the expenditure of energy, old one. You've seen how this show treats the legacy of aging grandmothers. They Shoot Nanas, Don't They?
Dinner. Kelly Jo makes a toast to "the best family [she] could ever ask for," adding that she's with a man who makes her feel "amazing." And also to "an amazing night." All Tampa has to do is change its name to "Amazing, Florida" and they can consider their corporate synergy dollars pretty damn well spent in the final analysis. I feel like that word is reserved for circus performers on unicycles twirling rings around on their arms really, really fast. Mid-'80s television shows about ghost trains riding through people's living rooms? Amazing. Grandma Hooka Chaka? Non-threateningly maternal. And a big fan of this "Joey."