If This Is What Happens To Me After I Work Out, Maybe I Shouldn't Work Out

Some things, big and small, as a result of my decision to head out after dinner and work out because I'm getting really fat:

• I missed the tail end of the pairs figure skating free skate.  Hopefully I'll remember to watch it again late at night, but I might be too busy masturbating to and/or the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.
• I realized again that the coffeehouse I wanted to go to was at the end of the worst potholed pavement in the state.  Goddamn you winter, and when in the hell is the city of Minneapolis going to fill those fucking holes in?!?!?!  (I need to find another coffeehouse.)
• I wanted to eat pizza after drinking coffee, and luckily both places are kitty-corner from each other.  But I wanted to make sure I could do that.  Turns out the pizza place, which closes very late on weekends, closes at 11 weeknights.  Boo!
• I did manage to do the one thing I had to do at the pizza shop: buy a ticket to the North Star Roller Girls bout this Saturday.  So at about 15-10 till close I went in and bought a ticket.  The only rub: Cash only.  And I'm cash-poor.  I really wanted to use my credit card for this, even if I'm racking up the charges, but I used ten bucks on the ticket.  Now I'll have to get money from the ATM tomorrow. ...
• ... and I left my car to walk to the coffeehouse with my car not exactly rubbing up against the curb.  I'm scared that a car taking that turn hard and fast will see another car coming the other way on the two-way and smash my driver's-side mirror.  Luckily no one did.
• Gah!  Banging my leg against the table, knocking my cup of hot chocolate and spilling it all over the goddamn table really pisses me off. ...
• And it begins to exacerbate what would have been petty annoyances easily tuned out of the mind.  This coffeehouse I decided to go to plays music that is, um, funky.  This is beyond alternative or college radio -- you need to be seriously bored with all kinds of music, and then have enough time to seek out acts that don't sound like anybody, anywhere, no matter how obscure they might be.  Trouble with that is, the music sounds like shit.  And in my paranoid and frazzled post-exercise state, this particular act, with its obvious lyrics and singing that sounds meant to bleed eardrums, made me want to dive for my headphones. ...
• Except that I couldn't find my goddamn earphones!  I made damn sure I put them in my bag because I knew I was going out.  And I swear I pulled them out of my bag after I got my hot chocolate.  I thought I was wrong ... until I started picking up before midnight close and saw them behind my laptop.  Fuck me -- my salvation from this noise assault was within my arm's reach, hidden away in plain sight.
• Finally, I couldn't find my goddamn house key!  It was pulled away from my car key ring because I'm fat, and when I tried to pull my keys out to start the car it bent the ring's ends and my house key squirmed out.  It's been loose in my pockets since then because the ring's ends don't close tight enough anymore.  But shit, I should've known this would happen.  It was secure in my ring, but now that it was loose it could be lost anywhere.  Could it be at the gym?  Thank Buddha I had the foresight to at least put that in my gym bag, where I found it after I parked in my garage.

Maybe I shouldn't go to the gym tomorrow.  Or ever.