This is... TORCHWOOD.

Spent another lovely evening with the ladies -- TORCHWOOD-STYLE.

Well, to be accurate, it went: Discussion of strip clubs vs. burlesque shows--> Cranberry juice --> Literal Videos via YouTube --> KISS Shreds via YouTube --> Simon Sez: Santa Edition --> Chinese food --> TORCHWOOD.

I love that show. I love that it leaves weird, unanswered questions about every plot point. I love that John Barrowman schmacts like he invented it. I love the sci fi sugary goodness wrapped into every episode.

I love that Ianto is never given a gun.

I love that we invent scripts about how Ianto is given a pink hair dryer instead of gun. And I love that we invent new Aerosmith lyrics: "Ianto's gotta gun.... Ianto's kinda dumb..." And I love that he feeds dark chocolate to pterodactyls. (That last one is true to the Torchwood universe).

But why? Why Tosh? Why must you target the brilliant, unappreciated, bashful ones? Why? Why, stomach wound?!

Alright -- this post has more or less been an inside joke for me, The Advocate, and Ship Sharp. It was great times.

Will update tomorrow with a few fun posts. Will spend the day at work plotting away, as I do.

EDIT: I have to note the significance of my fortune cookie from tonight. Check it: "We write our own destiny. We become what we do." -- WHOA. And after those comments I made in relation to writing yesterday, I find this fortune to be eerie and accurate...