While flipping through channels in a fog of night time cold medicine, I stumbled upon NBC.   It was a commercial for some local flooring company, Big Dog Flooring or some odd crap.  I wasn't paying attention. 

You know that pang of grief that nails you in the gut when you, for some reason or other, temporarily forget that someone you cared about has died; and you say "Oh, hey, I haven't talked to X for a while, I wonder if he/she's doing alright?" and then all of a sudden you realize that they died a while ago?  I do that sometimes.

That's what it felt like when Late Night returned from commercial.  I had completely forgotten that the tall red headed guy who makes me chuckle when I'm almost ready for sleep has left, and had been replaced by a nervous, unfunny, grinning sideshow.  That sounds harsh, and it is harsh.  Or, at least, that's what my conscience told me; that I shouldn't just go around telling people that they're unfunny; people have feelings. 

But then I saw him sitting next to Serena Williams. 

Say what you will about women professional athletes, or the guys who are attracted to them, because I've never been either.  The only pro-athletes I've ever been attracted to are Anna Kournikova, and Serena Williams.  While I like strong women, I've never really been all that attracted to women whose biceps are bigger than my calves.  Or women who tower over me by more than a couple of inches.  There's just something about Serena though, her face mostly, that just enamors me. Especially (evidently) when I'm trashed on cold meds. 

What brought me out of my slack-jawed stupor was Mr. Fallon's challenge to the tennis pro to a game of beer pong.  I couldn't wait.  I thought "This might do it, this might actually make me change my mind about Jimmy Fallon."  Some stage hands opened a curtain, and brought out a pong table, placed two pitchers of beer on it, and then they cut to a commercial. 

That damned Floor Dog company again.  Something about a St. Bernard walking on carpet and hardwood floors and how that has to do with me needing new flooring from their company. 

I went and got another Mucinex, because while the last one in combination with the inhaler fucked me up a bit, it did absolutely shit to clear my nose, throat, and chest of whatever abomination was accumulating inside me.  When I returned, I saw the beginning of the game. 

Jimmy says something nervous while laughing that no one, not the audience nor Serena can understand, and then throws a pong ball at her, missing all the cups.  I notice both the pitchers of beer were at the same levels as when they were first brought out.  They didn't fill the cups with the beer. 

Serena looks awkwardly at the camera, leans over the table, and misses. 

Jimmy misses again.

They miss a couple more times. 

Then Serena hits two in a row. 

Jimmy spills the second on his tie and says something that I couldn't understand.  Then he introduces Ludacris, and then Ludacris starts singing sort of.  Lights flash, things are said that I can't understand, the Roots play along with Ludacris, I get mad because I didn't get to see a hammered Serena Williams accidentally have one of her pectoral muscles pop out of the top of her dress. 

In a haze of frustration I turned on my computer, determined to write something about how much I don't like Jimmy Fallon.