If you think that it should be called 30 below because it's very cold in Antarctica, you'd be wrong.

I never cry at movies. I just don’t. The last time I cried at a movie was Million Dollar Baby, and even that was after the movie in the car on the way home, and I maintain that it was an exception anyway because it had Morgan Freeman doing a voice over AND I think I was about to get my period or something.

The point is that last weekend Mr. E and I went to go see Eight Below. You know, that Disney movie that just came out about the sled dogs trapped in Antarctica with Paul Walker – also known as the most amazing story of survival, friendship and adventure ever told? Yeah, that movie. I cried from start to finish. At one point I had to give myself a stern lecture and tell myself to pull it together – I was about to just curl up in my seat and sob openly.

Is it normal to cry for two hours in a movie about sled dogs when Brokeback Mountain moved you not at all? Perhaps not.

Regardless, the movie itself was pure Disney schlock, which is not to say it wasn’t well done (it was) and I loved every minute of it. I kind of want to see it again. Ok, I really want to see it again. I told Mr. E maybe we should just have some damn kids already, if we’re going to end up spending our Sundays at Disney movies anyway.