I'm sure you've all heard the term "perfect storm"? As in, when circumstances are such that an event or action or something becomes magnified far beyond what it normally be? It sometimes literally refers to a storm, one much more powerful than normal, due to weather conditions lining up perfectly to create a massive storm.

Well today, I experienced a near perfect shitstorm. I'm not saying it was the worst day ever, merely that almost everything that happened today was bad, and almost everything I did resulted in something that was at least partially had.

It started out at 2am, when I woke up with stomach pain. I have recently gotten over the flu, and I was worried that it had come back and I was going to miss more days of work. However, in between sessions of hunching over in pain and hunching over vomitting, I remembered that all I had eaten the previous day was a shitload of greasy fried chicken, a shitload of mountain dew, and a shitload of cheez-its, so the vomitting wasn't all that unexpected. This seemed to be a good thing, because it meant that I wasn't sick again, my body merely had something to say about my diet, and if I got back to bed immediately, I could have a fairly normal day at work today.

Of course, this didn't happen. It is incrediably hard for me to sleep on an empty stomach, but after all that vomitting, my stomach was weak and wouldn't be able to handle a decent amount of food without feeling sick again.

I ate a bagel and slept very poorly for an hour or two before waking up and being unable to fall back asleep.

At around breakfast time, I discovered I had that thrice damned curse, where one is so hungry one finds it difficult to eat. So I had half a bowl of cheerios for breakfast, because even though I was starving, that's all I could bring myself to eat.

Half asleep and low on energy, I drove the ~45 minutes to work. When I got there, my boss pointed out that I wasn't wearing non-slip shoes (a requirement), and that I had to go home and get them. I did so, and was effectively an hour and a half late.

The whole day at work (I work at Panda Express), I was feeling sick, due to the lack of food and sleep. This would've been fine if it had been a normal wednesday, which are usually pretty slow, and if I had been scheduled for my normal shift, which is usually only 6-8 hours. But no, I was working open to close, which is 11 hours.

Also, it was the busiest I have seen the store in months. We had the normal lunch rush, a second lunch rush, an abnormally large amount of customers during the lull between lunch and dinner, a dinner rush, and then an hour long right-before-closing-so-you-don't-have-any-time-to-actually-close-the-goddamn-store rush. So instead of starting to clean the kitchen at 7 and then eventually getting everything done by 10 and leaving, I had to cook at a breakneck speed until about 8:30.

Correction: I tried to cook at a breakneck speed. I was tired and hungry and sick, I could barely keep up with all the orders, and my co-workers wasted no time in letting me know it. 'Cept Nic, he's cool.

So now on top of having to close while sick and tired, I had a good hour and a half less time to do it in. I could go through all the bullshit that happened, but I'll just give you the highlight: this middle aged Asian lady was closing the dining room and serving area, and she had the keys to lock up. Now, not only is closing the front a lot less work than closing the kitchen (what I was doing), she was not at all sick and could do it at regular speed. So she's bitching this entire time about how I'm not going fast enough and how she doesn't want to stay and wait for me to finish so she could lock the doors. Not once did she offer to help.

But the real bitchiness happened when I went to take the trash out to the dumpster and came back to find the doors already locked. I could see her inside, washing a counter, and I knocked. She ignored me. I knocked again, thinking she hadn't heard me. She continued to ignore me. I knocked a third time, harder. This time she looks up at me and gives me a dismissive wave. I am dumbfounded. Is she... refusing to let me back into the store or something?

Apparently she was, because she continued to do her work for about 10 minutes before letting me in. And of course, she continued to bitch about me not being done yet. I mentioned that I could've been done by now if she had actually opened the fucking door when I knocked, but she just ignored that and said she was done waiting and was going to leave.

Now, as I said before, she had the keys, so I had to leave when she left. And I hadn't finished my closing work yet, so now I'll likely get chewed out a ton by my boss and other coworkers about how I didn't close correctly. Whatever.

Anyway, we clocked out, left the store, and I shambled to my car. Not walked, I was too tired and in pain (I was born with twisted femurs. It puts a lot of stress on my knees when I stand or walk for long periods of time) to do that. I shambled to my car, pleased that, at the very least, I'd get to listen to Coast to Coast AM on the way home (it's a radio show about the supernatural, aliens, conspiracies, that kind of stuff. While sometimes pretty bogus, it's very interesting).

But nope. Instead of Coast to Coast, the station it's usually on is a few guys talking about basketball. Fuck that. I scanned the other radio stations and couldn't find anything else interesting, and ended up driving home in silence.

Although it wasn't completely silent, because I glanced at my fuel meter and, can you believe it; I was almost out of gas in the middle of the night in a shady-as-hell part of town.

I stopped at the closest gas station, got out, swiped my card, and was told it had been declined. I swiped again. Declined.

Confused, I checked my email to see if Chase Bank had sent me anything about my bank account.

Oh hey, it's just Netflix overdrawing my checking account for the 2nd time in the last 5 months >_<

So I'm at a gas station with no gas and no way to buy any. I sat there and waited until an oldish guy pulled in and started filling up his tank. I politely asked him if I could pay him $10 cash for him to run me $10 of gas on his card, and he said yes, which is basically the only good thing to happen to me today.

I got home and took a shower. When I got out and went to find some clothes, I found that the cat had pissed on my pile of clean clothes. I dug through them, trying to separate the clean from the pissy, and found that he had pissed all over my Rarity shirt (it's fucking on now, kitty. You better sleep with one eye open). I found some clean clothes and put them on.

Now I'm lying in bed, typing this, and my shoulders hurt.

Seriously. Fuck this day.