What's a girl to do when she's 27, unemployed, and has just been kicked out of the only home she's ever known? Well, if you're Shelley (Anna Faris), an orphan and former Playboy Bunny, you stumble through a day or so of dumb blonde/Being There moments, spend the night in jail, and end up signing on to be the new house mother for Zeta Alpha Zeta.

And so begins The House Bunny. Shelley is the dumb blonde who needs to learn that she has more going for her than her looks, Zeta is the socially awkward sorority that needs to learn that they have just as much to offer as all the other girls out there, and between beauty lessons and current events, both Shelley and the Zeta girls come to see that all of them are women who are smart, beautiful, and valuable just as they are.

With Zeta's charter in the balance due to low membership and no new pledges, the first third of House Bunny is essentially devoted to making Zeta the sorority to be in... in other words, the sorority that gets the guys. Cue thirty minutes or so of horrendously awkward social situations, makeovers, slightly less awkward social situations, and party planning 101. The message: anyone can play the game, get the boy, and be popular with the right look, the right lines, and little bit of help.

Of course, things aren't quite that simple. Shelley may have taught the Zetas everything they know about boys, clothes, and make-up, but when it comes to her success in love and life, let's just say that for the first time, her looks and lines alone just don't seem to cut it. When she meets Oliver (Colin Hanks), the cute manager of a nearby nursing home, her usual tricks end up backfiring. Cue a ten-minute montage of the education and de-slutification of a Playboy Bunny. And turn out the new and improved Shelley.

But the problem that still exists—as much as Shelley may be smarter and the Zetas prettier, they have all become people they are not. Even though Shelley isn't relying on her usual game, she's just replaced it with a new one. And even though the Zetas have learned that they can be popular too, they have essentially lost their own unique identities (and become critical of others' identities in the process).

Arrive at the place we all knew they were going from the beginning—smack dab in between Playboy Bunny and awkward recluse, and fully aware that the most attractive people they will ever be is themselves.

As Shelley says, "Our motto is: Be who you are." To be who you are is the difference between a life of "meteor moments" and something more, Shelley explains. Sure, we can rely on clothes, lines, and parties to give us a sense of value and place. But as soon as the party ends, so will our place in the spotlight. And as soon as our outfit wears thin, so will our value. The only recognition that will last longer than one season is one that is based on the aspects of ourselves that endure. And the only value that will mean anything to us in the end, one that stems from who we are at the core.

But more than just a movie about individuals being themselves, House Bunny is a story about being ourselves in a community. It is a story that recognizes our need for friendship, family, and belonging. It is about our need to be wanted and appreciated for who we are. And it is about the value of communities and people who celebrate and encourage the individuality within each of us.

All in all, The House Bunny is not the best movie I have ever seen. But neither is it the worst. While its exaggerated characterizations are at times almost offensive, at others they are hilarious. While much of its humor is more stupid than anything else, a lot of it is actually quite funny. As ditzy as Shelley is, I must admit, she has some pretty good lines—"Hi, my name is Shelley. I like long walks and hate rude people." As far off as her perception of the world can be, sometimes she hits it right on the nose—"Kindness is just love with its work boots on." And at the end of it all, even amid its fair share of goofy simplicity, House Bunny's message is one that rings true. In everything you do and every relationship you enter, be who you are, love others for who they are, and then and only then will you truly find a place to call home and a community of people to call family.