"In the late 1970s two FBI agents expand criminal science by delving into the psychology of murder and getting uneasily close to all-too-real monsters."
This has been so good and so fascinating, the start of modern psychological profiling. If you get Netflix, get on this right away...
@Midnight-Kroovy
I farted at my sister's once and a tiny bit of diarrhea came out. I had to sneak away to the bathroom and try to make my boxers wearable.
I went to the cinema for a late night showing of Happy Death Day but they got the listings wrong and it wasn't showing Booooooooo! Probably won't have time to catch it at the cinema now.
I was at an Art Gallery one time with my friend, who is a life insurance underwriter, where I got into a bit of situation. So I interrupted his conversation with this hot waitress who turns out to be an old classmate of ours. She recognized me from a movie I was in earlier in my life. She was called away by her boss and I let my friend know that I had sharted. I tried farting and little bit of shit came out. He didn't know what that meant. He wanted to stay and continue to catch up with the hot waitress. I had to get out of there. As we were trying to leave I let the hot waitress know I was headlining a revival for Jesus Christ Superstar. Then we stared at her tramp stamp before we left.
Well, I officially need 1-2 root canal(s) now. But at least I had it verified that my recent intense jaw pain is due to an infection in my gum. Oh joy.
Once when I was in high school we were out playing football (soccer) and the ball got kicked down an embankment just to the side of the pitch. I was nearest so naturally I had to go down the embankment to retrieve the ball, but I didn't anticipate how slippery it would be. I slid down and landed on my back, knocked the wind out of my sails, and something about the impact made my bowels unleash. I was wearing white shorts that day. You can imagine the humiliation.
Comments
"In the late 1970s two FBI agents expand criminal science by delving into the psychology of murder and getting uneasily close to all-too-real monsters."
This has been so good and so fascinating, the start of modern psychological profiling. If you get Netflix, get on this right away...
It was the cow...
Jury. Executioner. Judge.
I farted at my sister's once and a tiny bit of diarrhea came out. I had to sneak away to the bathroom and try to make my boxers wearable.
More of a Caution:Poopy Tail, really...
It was the cow...
Jury. Executioner. Judge.
Once when I was in high school we were out playing football (soccer) and the ball got kicked down an embankment just to the side of the pitch. I was nearest so naturally I had to go down the embankment to retrieve the ball, but I didn't anticipate how slippery it would be. I slid down and landed on my back, knocked the wind out of my sails, and something about the impact made my bowels unleash. I was wearing white shorts that day. You can imagine the humiliation.