The thought of another baby-related comedy is probably as nauseating to moviegoers as the worst bout of morning sickness—or even the thought of a Juwanna Mann sequel, for that matter. Still, writer Michael McCullers (of the regrettable Goldmember) challenges Diablo Cody and Judd Apatow's ownership of the genre with the tidy Baby Mama (April 25)—a career gal-meets-baby story loosely remnant of 1987's Baby Boom, but with fewer shoulder pads, tons of Jamba Juice jabs, a squirrel ultrasound, and more references to the taint than thought possible in a PG-13 movie.

Tina Fey takes a break from her role as frumpy Liz Lemon on 30 Rock to play the uptight Kate Holbrook, a successful single 37-year-old businesswoman at a Whole Foods-esque mega-chain who's suddenly bitten by the baby bug. When confronted with the fact that she has a one-in-a-million shot of ever conceiving, she visits Sigourney Weaver, a hilariously creepy high-end surrogacy center owner, who sets her up with deliciously white-trash surrogate Angie (Amy Poehler) and her tattooed common-law husband Carl (Dax Shepard). A bastardized (hey!) version of the Juno adoption set up, to be sure, but are there many other ways?

Angie soon abandons Carl (telegraphed perfectly when he shrieks "I'm gonna bang all your friends ... consider them banged!" early on), shows up on Kate's door, and the odd-couple is forced to endure until Kate gets her baby and Angie gets her paycheck. What could easily devolve into corny female bonding, stays dry and clever, quickly doing away with the idea of the film being a mere chick-flick. It helps to have a cast of hilarious minor characters, too: Romany Malco (Weeds) plays Kate's street-wise doorman, Steve Martin makes up for Cheaper by the Dozen 2 as Kate's whacked-out Zen boss, and Greg Kinnear does his usual puppy-eyed nice-guy act—but is nevertheless likable as Kate's smoothie-blending love interest.

30 Rock fans will go for Fey's familiar razor-sharp deadpan, and you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who won't enjoy Poehler's nutty Angie, who in one scene asks the birthing coach if she can spray Pam on her lady parts to help with delivery. Ultimately, the film may launch a spattering of new catchphrases, a lá that infernal Cody script—but it may also reinforce the idea that baby comedies don't need precocious teenagers or fart-induced bouts of pink eye to be funny.