'Superbad' is super good

I've seen more movies this past week than I've probably seen all summer. Last Monday, I saw "Becoming Jane" and Saturday afternoon I saw "Superbad."

"Jane" is an obvious chick flick and "Superbad" is one of those overly popular silly guy movies. Every female I know who was unwillingly taken to "Superbad" by her boyfriend or husband said it was the tackiest, crudest, most idiotic movie they'd seen. So why did I love this movie so much? Maybe it was the shock value that had my eyes welling up with tears of laughter. Or maybe it was just McLovin. Either way, I loved this movie.

As a devoted follower of the chick flick genre, I thought "Becoming Jane" would hit a home run with me. A love story about a writer. Come on it's the perfect girlie movie for a single newspaper reporter!

SPOILER ALERT: Rather than leaving with that warm fuzzy feeling where everything works out, I left seriously down in the dumps. With everyone a little disappointed by the movie's ending, my friend's mom said, "Anyone up for watching 'Old Yeller?'"

Jane finds love but can never have it. She never marries and ends up writing six of the most highly regarded novels still today. On the ride home, I couldn't help but thinking that some of the greatest women writers were some of the saddest people too. Virginia Woolf put rocks in her pockets to drown herself. Sylvia Plath stuck her head in an oven. Jane Austen lived the life of an old maid.

Not that I could ever compare to these women, but I'm considering a career in accounting.