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After playing the titular role in There’s Something About Mary, Cameron Diaz was universally classified as a guy’s girl, that rare breed of leggy blonde who also happens to like going to the driving range and watching SportsCenter. She slathered semen in her hair, and everybody loved her. As one of Charlie’s Angels, Diaz showed that she could also kick the ass of any guy who happened to get in her way. Plus, she danced in her Underoos, and everybody loved her. But even if you roll your eyes at Diaz’s now standard, too-cute booty-shakin’ during the opening scenes of The Sweetest Thing, by film’s end, you’ll be pleasantly surprised to find that, dammit, she can’t help but come off as the girlfriend you wish you had—regardless of your gender or orientation. The Sweetest Thing is mainly a road movie for the ladies (for full-fledged ladies, mind you; the not-a-girl-yet-not-a-woman camp went on the road a couple of months ago), though it has a light dusting of The Man Show to keep the boy-crazy proceedings watchable for the guys who get dragged to it. Christina (Diaz), Courtney (Christina Applegate), and Jane (Selma Blair) live in a world in which women loll about in their undies and feel each other’s fake breasts, get hot ‘n’ heavy with men and then unfeelingly toss them aside, and, most important, are forever dancing, bouncing, and generally acting as if wherever they are, that’s where the party is. During one night out, while trying to help Jane get over one man by getting her under another one, Christina gets into an argument with a cute stranger (Thomas Jane) and later can’t get him out of her mind. Knowing that his brother is to be married in a nearby small town the following week, Christina and Courtney set out to crash the wedding and give Christina another chance to see if the fetching contrarian is the One. Nancy Pimental, South Park writer and former eye candy/young foil on Win Ben Stein’s Money, delivers a script that has just enough giggle-inducing ick to balance out the estrogen-fueled proceedings, and Applegate and Diaz display a believable lifelong-friends rapport as they face travel trials such as getting soaked in their Sunday best and finding the source of that goddamn smell in Courtney’s car. But it’s an outta-nowhere dressing-room scene in which the actresses flaunt their bodily flaws—including sticking out their stomachs in all their you’d-never-know-it, could-be-pregnant roundedness—that clinches Diaz’s not-quite-Everywoman appeal. Let Cameron shimmy all she wants: She’s shown me her gut; I’ll allow her the glory. —Tricia Olszewski