Bob's family loves Estella. Because she's the matriarch and her hair has its own life force, let's let Nora Kennedy-Onassis go first: "I like the way she touches you, because we're a touchy-feely family." Okaaaaaaay. Also, "I asked her to go for a walk with me, and she was every bit as comfortable by herself." Wait wait wait. Just a second. Hold the long-distance phone Bob is going to have to use when he sells out his loving family and flees to Los Angeles where the sun and the television cameras live. Um, Nora? When there's a Mike Fleiss show on an upcoming Fox season entitled Hot Girl On Girl Action...With My Mom!, can we revisit this discussion? Because, until then, it should probably be made a bit clearer that Bob isn't actually bringing these girls home for you. Lots of touching? Private walks together? Does something need explaining here?
Man, does that sister have a bit of a Midwestern accent. She seems really nice, though. It's just too bad that she'd probably never be my friend in real life. Because she's a little older than I am. And I don't know where Michigan is. And I just implied that her mom was a freakish, girlfriend-poaching lesbian.
This is so much filler I'm on the brink of a joke ending with "don't even know 'er!"
Bob, effectively, tells his family that they're not being any help at all. He says it makes him nervous that each of the women has expressed herself and her feelings so blatantly ("I think I already started loving him" is blatant?) to him, and that he doesn't want to make any decision that wouldn't be "respectful" of them. Oh, my god, he totally hates both Estella and Kelly Jo. Amazing. "You know you want the right person who fits right for you," Bob's father says, figuring out that it isn't either one of them. Now THAT would have been an awesome freakin' ending. Everything would be different today. He finishes off with the confessional, "If tomorrow night's date with Kelly Jo goes anything like tonight's date with Estella went, I'm totally screwed. Because I don't know where I'm at." Oh, my god. He hates them both.
"Long Lake, A Great Place to Live and Play," yet another folksy, friendly-looking homespun sign begs, as if it's the entrance to Epcot's LongLakeLand Adventure, light years from nowhere but only seventy-three miles from Alpena. (Heh. "Alpena.") I believe this part of the world, sadly omitted from manifest destiny's ostensibly comprehensive plan, is called "Michigan." It has a college. And Bob Guiney. And Alpena. Heh. "Alpena."