Unfortunately, I was in Virginia Beach. The oppressive heat and humidity was a snarling yak on my forehead, and the acrid exhaust from the eight-lanes of Virginia Beach Boulevard, though one block over from the shrugging apartment building I called home, attacked my nostrils in harried forays. The yak chewed my hair.

I arrived at 104 Broad Street, home sweet home. I unlocked the door and collapsed on my orange velour couch. I bake the bread at a local restaurant, and work was hard today. A manager had neglected to inform us of an order for over fifty one-pound buns, so I think everyone put in a little overtime. I was exhausted; it was Friday; not only was I going out to see a movie, I decided, I wasn�t going to cook. Today, boiling up some Cup Noodles� was just too hard.

I knew Jen would be home soon, and I knew she would want to go see a movie tonight, also. I knew this because I had brought it up earlier in the week, when I mentioned I wanted to go see The Tuxedo starring Jackie Chan. I was pretty excited about the movie, being a fan of both parodied genres, but I remember Jen being lukewarm about the whole affair. She usually was, about my choice in movies, so I thought this was normal.

She walked in the door. I realized that I hadn�t moved since I collapsed, save for scrounging the remote from under a pair of jeans and tuning into Cartoon Network.

�Hi Jen. How are you?� I turned onto my side to smile at my sweetheart.

�Hey, honey,� said Jen, smiling sweetly. �How was work?� She sat down next to me. We made out for a couple of seconds.

�Busy. Was today a cakewalk, or no?�

My fianc� frowned. �We were swamped today. Portia wasn�t in for half of the day, and April expected me to do all of the RA�s today��

The next five minutes were filled with paperwork jargon and complaints about idiot coworkers. I smiled and nodded and said, �Yeah,� at appropriate intervals. This happens about every day.

�So�� she said as she trailed off. �I made some calls today��

�Lemme guess,� I said, �Movie times.�

�How�d you know?� Jen laughed. �I called Regal Thirteen� Josh, what is that?�

I looked up from the TV, and not away from my fiance as I should have, but we�re both used to it. �That�s a yak. It�s a personified metaphor�� I yawned. �� it just hasn�t gone away yet.� The yak looked up from a sheaf of photo paper for a second, then back again. Jen turned her attention to me, grabbed the remote, and switched off the television, all while maintaining eye contact. We�re both used to it.

�I was thinking we should go see One-Hour Photo, said Jen. �Or maybe�� she put on her goofy little girl smile. Sweet Home Alabama� She flashed her cheeks at me and giggled. I noticed, for casual day, she had stolen one of my sweaters. She looked really, really great in it.

For some reason, the shirt made intuition and logic jumps in my mind. I connected her lukewarm reactions, her goofy smile, and her research of movie times to an obscure conversation (Over a cup of Cherry Coke�, if I remember correctly,) we had a couple of months ago. She had lamented that she never got to pick out the movies that we went to go see in theaters, and when we rented movies, we usually ended up getting something bad� or good, you guys know. I had known this for a while, and although I felt bad about dragging her along to some movies she didn�t want to really see (Though granted, she liked nearly all of them,) I still really couldn�t see myself gearing up to go see Sweet Home Alabama. I would have jumped to see One-Hour Photo any other day, but I was tired, greasy, doughy, hungry, and in the mood for something light, funny, and inconsequential. I didn�t know it, but the day would turn out for the best.

�Mmmmmm�!!� I complained, smiling at her, squirming under her arm, showing my reluctance to see either one. The yak bleated at me, then disappeared. My cat, Doctor Phibes, jumped up onto the couch. Jen frowned at me, and decided to play it straight.

�Josh, I don�t want to see The Tuxedo. I want to see a movie that I want to see, that I picked out.� She picked up Doctor Phibes, and she gave me a plaintive, irritated look. I knew I was going to have to give in, especially after the yak had eaten the photo paper.

I gave in. �Alright. Do you really, really want to go see, Sweet Home Alabama?�

�Yes,� she said.

�Then let�s go. When is the next showing?�

Her face drew a blank. �You�re not actually suggesting that we go see it, are you?�

�Don�t look so shocked. I�m willing to put my cinematic tastes to the side a couple of times for you,� I smiled, even though I was realizing that this was a major factor in a relationship in a married couple: That of the husband finally giving in and seeing a chick flick. I hoped that it wouldn�t get away from itself.

Jen smiled at me. Jen is a bit more intuitive than you might know, and we actually communicate very well, mostly within slight derisions and even insults. �Five-Thirty.� She gave me that smile to show she appreciated something that I had just done. Inwardly, I shook my head, and I somehow I knew later that relating all of this would be a little more fascinating than relating this movie� and not one to break from my gut instinct�

Sweet Home Alabama

Would I call this movie bad? No. Good? Not exactly� no, I�d say, �Not terribly.� Cute? Most definitely. This was an average movie, cute, and harmless.

Surprisingly, there isn�t really much else to say. Reese Witherspoon leaves her rowdy Alabama past behind her to live in the big city and become a fashion designer (and assuming all the roles that everyone has expected the job to hold: consorting with gay men; being friends with flippant, blunt, and offish British women, and having an absolute babe for a boyfriend. Says Jen.) As it turns out, this boyfriend is the perfect guy. No, really. There isn�t anything wrong with him, and societal-speaking, there are very few women in America who wouldn�t turn this guy down. When she is asked to be his wife, she accepts� but realizes she has to get a divorce from her near-perfect, cute, and yokelish high-school husband in Alabama.

What follows is hijinx and hilarity in the most backwater of all states; a personal journey of discovering human worth and happiness� despite where you live or what you wear or what flag you�d rather salute or how many toes you still gots. In the end, the movie is fairly predictable, amusing, and cute. It is exactly what you�d think the movie should be: dumb, cute, silly, inconsequential, simple, cute, and cute. A date movie if there ever was one.

Now for a little bit of nitpicking. The movie seemed to have a lot of scenes cut, such as scenes being introduced by lines of dialog that referenced something that happened off screen, but which could have had a scene devoted to it. To someone like me� accchhh. Just bothersome.

Also, although Reese is the center of the movie, everyone else around her could have done with a little bit of characterization� actually, everyone could have. People are nothing more than lovable characters, not lovable people. Is that too much to ask from a comedy?

Ideals Reaffirmed By This Movie: