Kelly Jo (didn't her name use to have a hyphen?) somehow manages to look and sound simultaneously like all of the designing women as she confessionalizes, "Bob picked us up for our date." A private jet lands in San Fran, and a first shot of Bob "Dippity Don't" Guiney ensues, as he helps the girls climb down from the plane. Wow. Nothing happened on that flight at all, people. Kelly-NoMoreHypen-Jo keeps on, "It's a dream to be with the guy that you really want to be with. Granted, there's other girls with ya, but what can you do?" I'll make a list for you later.
Let's go crazy, Bay Area-style! The MontageMaker3000 feature on the AVID is seriously wheezing and smoking from overuse right now. Skyline! Fisherman's Wharf! Golden Gate Bridge. Um, baby seals? Alcatraz, where losers are always whining about their best. We land on a boat that is empty, save for the four ladies and Guiney Love, cruising around the bay or the harbor or the Quay or whatever it's called when you live your life of the sea. Despite the famed quirkiness of the San Francisco weather and the visible results of the wind, Bob's hair does not move, except of its own accord. Bob? As the old saying goes? When you don't look good, you don't look good. He's in the middle of his prepared material, standing facing the girls, who are seated politely in two rows, facing the performer. It's a wonder he doesn't carry a microphone and a plain brick wall with him wherever he goes. He asks his assembled audience, "You know what's so weird about weddings?" Why is he a George Carlin routine from 1979 right now? I can feel this sentence heading toward an end of "And in baseball...you go home!" Not a joke, George. Not your material, Bob. Anyway: "The weirdest thing's that weddings are for everyone but you." Iambic fourteen-amter! Shakespeare: 10. Guiney Love: 14. No. Contest. He adds that he doesn't want his next wedding to accommodate the guests, but that he wants it to be, effectively, all about him. Well, that's the egalitarian spirit, isn't it? A rowdy audience member named, I think, Meredith, dares to interrupt the performer's flow with her own non-surprisingly non-dissenting opinion: "I'd get married at 7-11 if it was the right person." It's not the worst conversational gambit I've ever heard, as conversational gambits go, but Bob merely uses it as a jumping-off point for his own "riff" on how wacky it would be if someone actually got married at a 7-11. Matching Slurpees! Big Gulps! Hands intertwined over a bean burrito! Hey, Bob, you forgot "guests throwing Chex Mix" as you get into the limo. And you forgot "taking your honeymoon in Flavor Country." And you also forgot letting someone besides you get a word in edgewise.