Coolest. Movie. Ever.

The week spanning from my move-out date to my tentative move-in date has been painfully slow. It's oppresively hot out - we can only lie outside until 11 am, before the intensity of the sun starts to smother us - and the collegian-infested city is all at once becoming lazy, as all things scheduled and mandatory (i.e. school) are pushed off until the late days of August. So imagine my surprise when, having mastered the delicate art of Tivo-ing, I settled in yesterday evening with the whole household asleep to watch what I had heard heralded as a classic detective flick, The Thin Man.

Let me just say this: amazing. There is a timeless quality to this movie that is perhaps only surpassed by the effortlessness of its comedy and wit; I was astounded to find that it came out over 70 years ago, in 1934. William Powell's and Myrna Loy's endless banter, easy sarcasm, and constant martini-downing guarantee that their charm is as powerful as their deductive skills, and the whodunit-facet of the plot is just as entertaining as their unmatchable camaraderie. And to top it all off, Powell is easily the coolest man to ever walk the face of the earth (his pup, Asta, could definitely pull a spot in the top five.)

Eventually, I had to turn it off and head to bed, as it was nearing 2 a.m. and I was laughing far too hard to keep quiet. I fell asleep wondering if the puppy I've picked out for the new apartment could somehow be nicknamed Asta, if my roommate will protest to my drinking dry martinis at all hours of the day and night, and if there are still men like Nick Charles in the world. I'd certainly like to think there are.

Please, do yourself a favor. See this movie.