May 2, 2007

I admit it.

I'm obsessed with C.S.I.

I've been watching so much of it that I now consider precisely how many epithilials and fingerprints I leave behind everywhere I go. I saw a toy C.S.I. fingerprinting kit in a clearance bin and nearly died of wanting it. I pride myself on knowing that liver temperature helps approximate time of death and that "cast off" is the blood spatter from a weapon that can help determine the assailant's chosen stance and escape route.

So I decided to challenge myself to a little forensic crime-solving test and rented the C.S.I. game for Balthazar's Xbox.

What I learned is that no way in hell am I cut out to be a crime scene investigator.

What you mostly need is patience. In the game it dummies it up for you by having the cursor arrow highlight green every time you pass over a place where there's evidence to collect and even so I miss approximately five things every crime scene. And bugger trying to find the right damn tool for collecting every minute hair and dust mote at a scene! I'm forever trying to just pick up entire items to bring back to the lab (cars, beds, whole truck trailers) for analysis. Which is, apparently, not how it works. Then, when I can't even solve a simple arson without the online walk-thru, I get angry and start mouthing off my C.S.I. partner when they say smarty-pants things like "Let the evidence tell the story" and "Look for small details in common to confirm a match before you ask for my help".

So now I'm content to just watch C.S.I. and let the memory of how very much I hated all things mathematical and scientific in school affirm my decision to go into theatre instead of forensic analysis.

The uber-patient, very thorough, totally competent, and not nearly geeky enough cast of C.S.I.

Who knew crime scenes could be so sexy? *cough*marghelgenberger*cough*