As you guys might already know, I have a love-hate relationship with the TV show Criminal Minds.
I mean, I love it. I really love it. It’s a bad-ass show with twisted creepy serial killer plot lines, and it also includes the super-hot Derek Morgan, as well as cutie nerdboy Spencer Reid.
But it gives me nightmares, and makes me think there are serial killers hiding in every corner of my house. My big, empty ol’ house.
I’ve watched off-and-on for years. I had to quit watching it altogether the year one of my roommates moved out and the other started spending most of her time at her boyfriend’s. I even begged her once, I think, “Please, Susie, please just come home on Wednesday nights so that I can watch Criminal Minds!” Every bump in the night, every creak in the floorboards, every shadow, even cars driving by outside… everything made me think I was going to be the victim of a serial killer.
Over-active imagination. It’s a curse I suffer with. every.damn.day.
So lately, despite now living alone, I’ve been back aboard the Criminal Minds wagon, thanks to the ol’ PVR. See, I can record the Criminal Minds eps and watch them at a better time for me. Usually in the middle of the full-light of day, which lessens the probability of me going squirrely in the dark and gives me ample time before bed to forget about what I watched.
It was late on Dec. 27th when I discovered that Bravo was airing a full Criminal Minds Marathon. It was already in full-swing by the time I found it, but I was glued to it from the moment I found it. Or, as glued to it as I could be. I mean, it was the holidays, which allowed for ample time to laze around and watch TV, but I didn’t watch it all. First off, I was spending lots of time at my mom’s and she hates the show with a passion. So if I wanted to be in the same room as her, I couldn’t have it on. I missed quite a few episodes while I was there because of that.
I think it was on the 29th that I was on the couch at almost noon, still in my PJ’s, knowing I should go take a shower and get dressed, but unable to move because I needed to know what was going to happen in the episode I was watching, when I finally thought to myself… Dude. Set the PVR. This is getting ridic.
So I did. I set the PVR. And thus, I recorded four full days of Criminal Minds. That’s, like… 96 hours of Criminal Minds. Give or take, because I skipped a few to watch World Juniors hockey games.
Still. That’s a lot of time to spend with serial killers.
I’ve been chipping away at those 96 hours ever since. And when I’ve needed a break from the BAU, I turn to Dexter (because I scored Season 6 & 7 in a sweet Boxing Day deal on Amazon). Which means even more time spent with a serial killer.
Here’s the good news: Spending all this time with serial killers has not turned me into a serial killer. phewf, right? I know. Me too.
Also, I’m no less afraid of the imaginary serial killers lurking around my house, either. While I try not to watch too much of it before going to bed, I still tend to run up the stairs three at a time with my fists up (because of the serial killer chasing me up the stairs), and I still tend to leap across my room into my bed to avoid the under-the-bed-area (because of the serial killer hiding under my bed), and also I tear open closet doors and gasp and flinch and duck (because of the serial killer hiding in the closet).
It’s a real treat to be me some days, I tell ya.
But here’s what I have discovered: I think I’d be a really good addition to any Behaviour Analysis Unit with the FBI. I’m getting SO GOOD at figuring out the killer’s MO, the patterns, the signatures, and the souvenirs. Often, I have the UnSUB nailed in my brain before the TV BAU even gets there. I’d be SUCH a good Criminal Profiler!!! I think I missed my calling, guys.
Of course, if I were a Criminal Profiler, and I did work for the BAU, I’d probably never sleep again for the rest of my life.
Maybe I’d be better off as Garcia. The one who surrounds herself with colourful fun things and talks sexy with Morgan all the time. I’d get to have fun hacking into computers, and I’d get to have him calling me “baby girl”. Sweet deal.
My new life goal.
Gotta get workin’ on my hacking skills, yo.