My day:
Twenty past three AM: Sleep.
Half-past six: Wake up.
Eight: Clock in.
Spend the next five hours nauseous with hunger.
Discover that I have bled through the super tampon and my underwear.
One PM: Get food.
Quarter-past one: Halfway through fries, discover that I am unable to tell whether or not my stomach is flatly declaring it will eat no more or if it is simply seizing out of sheer surprise that my throat hadn't been cut.
And the Marriot obscenity, and that absolute horror of a man John C. Wright, and the Worlcon fail, and the Writercon fail, and and and.
Seriously, y'all, screw this day, I am sticking 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS in, and anybody who links me specifically to content liable to upset me will get only Lafayette punching homophobes in the face in reply.