by Jimmy Fallon
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE WRITERS OF LATE NIGHT WITH JIMMY FALLON.
IT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT YOU. WELL, WITHOUT YOU AND MY FLAWLESS DELIVERY.
Acknowledgments
I may “write” the thank you notes, but thank you to the people who actually wrote them:
David Angelo
Alex Baze
Michael Blieden
Patrick Borelli
Gerard Bradford
Jeremy Bronson
Mike DiCenzo
Janine DiTullio
Ben Dougan
Wayne Federman
Anthony Jeselnik
Casey Jost
Eric Ledgin
Tim McAuliffe
A.D. Miles
Morgan Murphy
Amy Ozols
Bobby Patton
Gavin Purcell
Diallo Riddle
Jon Rineman
Bashir Salahuddin
Justin Shanes
Michael Shoemaker
Bobby Tisdale
Ali Waller
This book could not have been put together without the hard work of Kelly Powers, John MacDonald, Joel Knutson, Beth Rodgers, Edmond Hawkins, Lloyd Bishop, Brian McDonald, Risa Abrams, Erica Lancaster, Caroline Eppright, and Nick Caruso.
Thank you to the Late Night team for getting me through every day: Michael Shoemaker, Gavin Purcell, A.D. Miles, Hillary Hunn, Alice Michaels, and Katie Hockmeyer.
Thanks to Eric Kranzler, Simon Green, Jeff Jacobs, Peter Levine, Tom Rowan, and Ben Greenberg.
Thanks to everyone at NBC, especially Rick Ludwin, Nick Bernstein, Rebecca Marks, Marc Graboff, Amber James, Nate Kirtman, Kim Niemi, Drew Rowley, Steve Coulter, Ed Prince, Leslie Schwartz, Joni Camacho, Neysa Siefert, Scott Radloff, and Jessica Nubel.
Thanks to The Roots for everything and to James Poyser for his inspirational accompaniment.
Thank you to my wife Nancy and my parents, Jim and Gloria Fallon.
And finally, thank you “thank you list at the beginning of this book” for being longer than the actual book. What the hell is that about?
Introduction: A Thank You to the Reader
Thank you, reader, for buying this book. Because of you, I just made enough money to buy part of one beer. So in a way you, and a bunch of other readers, just bought me a beer. And when I drink that beer, I will stare into the glass and say a quiet “thank you.” Everyone else in the bar will wonder why I’m talking to my drink, but so what? This is between you and me. Me thanking you for buying this book. Unless you got it as a gift. In which case, you should go find that person and thank him or her.
Now that everybody’s good and thanked, go ahead and enjoy the book. I promise you’ll laugh. If you don’t, then come find me at the bar. I’ll buy you part of one beer.
Thank you
… the word moist, for being the worst word ever. I think I speak for all Americans when I say that we don’t want you as a word anymore. God, I hate you.
Thank you
… Taco Bell Chihuahua, for your many years of faithful service as a mildly offensive Mexican stereotype.
Thank you
… tequila. You know why… Oh, all right, I’ll just say it. Thank you for making me puke up everything I ate the night before. I lost two pounds!
Thank you
… Real Housewives of Atlanta, for demonstrating a universal truth: Idiots like me will always watch idiots like you fight on TV. You will forever be in my TiVo.
Thank you
… ants around my kitchen sink, for allowing every day to start with murder. Every day you take the paper towel express to Toiletville, and yet more of you arrive the next morning. I don’t get it, ants. But thank you.
Thank you
… DVR remote control, for your incredibly confusing response time. I push rewind five times and nothing happens, so I push it again and suddenly I’m all the way back to the beginning of the show, so I have to fast-forward again. Why won’t you just work, DVR remote? You’re so confusing. Thank you.
Thank you
… Dog Snuggie®, for allowing us to embarrass animals in a way I never imagined possible. You did it. Thanks for that.
Thank you
… slow-walking family walking in front of me on the sidewalk. No, please, take your time. And definitely spread out, too, so you create a barricade of idiots. I am so thankful that you forced me to walk into the street and risk getting hit by a car in order to pass you so I could resume walking at a normal human pace.
Thank you
… preseason football, for having all the excitement, commercials, and time-outs of the regular season, but with none of the mattering. I appreciate it. Thank you.
Thank you
… guy with the $10,000 sound system in his $800 car, for driving down Broadway this afternoon. You’re loud. You’re proud. You’re in a ’91 Tercel. Thank you.
Thank you
… guy at my dry cleaners, for charging me $11 to clean a dress shirt. It clearly doesn’t cost that much, but you know I’ll pay it anyway because I’m not really sure what you do and how much it should cost. In fact, I’m 99 percent sure that all you did was iron it and put a plastic sheet over it.
Thank you
… fantasy football draft, for letting me know that even in my fantasies, I am bad at sports.
Thank you
… newly discovered virus linked to penile cancer, for making me say the words penile cancer. I don’t think I have penile cancer, but maybe I’m just in penile. You know, penile is not just a river in Egypt. Sorry… I mean thanks. I should probably get it checked out.
Thank you
… Apple, for adding a camera to the iPod Nano. Now it’s just like the iPhone except it can’t make calls. So basically, it’s just like the iPhone.
Thank you
… guy in the revolving door who isn’t pulling his weight, for letting me handle all the pushing responsibilities while you handle all the waiting responsibilities. No, let me get it for you. You’re the king of the hotel entrance.
Thank you
… the F12 button on my keyboard. What is it you do again? Oh, that’s right—nothing.
Thank you
… Dad, for discovering text messaging. I really liked that text you sent with the smiley face, but not as much as the 27 blank text messages you sent right after. They kept me awake. Thanks, Dad.
Thank you
… shampoo… or as I like to call you when I run out of soap, “soap.”
Thank you
… Ben Bernanke, for saying that the recession is “most likely over.” Nothing puts me at ease and restores my confidence like a nice, firm “most likely.”
Thank you
… “People You May Know” feature on Facebook, for never introducing me to a single person that I actually want to know, ever. More accurately, your title should be “People I Do Know but Am Avoiding.” Thanks.
Thank you
… pop-up ads where it’s impossible to find where to click CLOSE. Or the ones that suddenly appear and block you from clicking on a link you really want to click, and then disappear as soon as you move your cursor away, only to reappear when you try again. You are so awesoooome!
Thank you
… hotel minibar, for charging $7 for a mini Toblerone. And thank you, Me, for eating three of them.
Thank you
… 2000 Flushes toilet cleaner, for not lying and saying that you last for 3,000 flushes. Because, the truth is… you could. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to count flushes or anything. OR WILL I???
Thank you
… guy on the street who let one go while listening to his iPod. Just because you can’t hear it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It happened.
Thank you
… guy who uses the urinal right next to me even though there are literally ten open urinals. Why not put your arm around my shoulder while we’re at it? Maybe we can reach over and flush each other’s toilets. You know, just a couple of “synchronized pee pals.” Thanks.
Thank you
… the Fall, for arriving this week. I was really getting tired of Summer’s bullshit.
Thank you
… vegan food, for being a healthy alternative to high-fat, meat-based diets. And for tasting like microwaved paper towels.
Thank you
… the word prescient. I’m not exactly sure what you mean, but I try to slip you into conversation when I don’t think the person I’m talking to knows what you mean, either. I knew they didn’t know what I was talking about—it was the perfect example of being prescient. By the way, I got you a birthday prescient.
Thank you
… leaves, for starting to change color. You can disguise yourselves however you like… but I still know it’s you.
Thank you
… guy in his fifties who jogs in spandex Lycra pants. The good news is, regular exercise at your age can greatly reduce your chances of heart attack, disease, and stroke. The bad news is, I can see your nuts.
Thank you
… Chinese delivery place, for giving me three sets of utensils when—SURPRISE!—it was just me eating. Are you trying to tell me that one person shouldn’t eat all this food? Next time why not take it further? Why not have the fortune cookie tell me to “take human bites.” Or say “Are you done now, fat ass?”
Thank you
… haters, for giving rappers so much to talk about.
Thank you
… NASA, for firing that missile at the moon. I think that sent a clear message to other lifeless rocks in the solar system that their constant orbiting will no longer be tolerated.
Thank you
… electrical outlets in Australia, for making me feel like I’m plugging my hair dryer into the mask from Scream.
Thank you
… people who count their money at the ATM and then file it away slowly while I stand behind them, for not feeling burdened by my presence. I’m just going to stand here silently getting madder and madder, and when you turn around and apologize to me, I’m going to say “no problem” in the most upbeat voice you’ve ever heard.
Thank you
… gym, for being exactly like my grandpa—always there for me, even though I only visit you twice a year.
Thank you
… customer service guy in India who calls himself “Todd,” thinking that will trick me into thinking he’s actually in Omaha and not New Delhi. Nice try, “Todd.” Hee hee… Yes, I’ll hold.
Thank you
… trick-or-treaters clearly too old to be doing it. It’s always nice to give out candy to the same two guys who installed my satellite dish.
Thank you
… raisins, for decades of faithful service as the Halloween treat of choice for hippies, cheapskates, and assholes.
Thank you
… molars. If my teeth were a class picture, you’d be the fat kids in the back row.
Thank you
… the name Lloyd, for starting with two Ls. I’m glad both those Ls were there, because otherwise I would have called you “Loyd.”
Thank you
… Christmas decorations, for going up right after Halloween. Nothing says “holidays” like seeing my neighbor replace his plastic Dracula with a plastic baby Jesus.
Thank you
… flour, for keeping the paper sack container business alive. Don’t want to change your packaging, huh? Whenever I buy you I feel like I’m Charles Ingalls buying something from Oleson’s store on credit.
Thank you
… dishwasher, for never getting cocky about how clean your dishes are. Because we both know that I wash them too much before I put them in you. Yup, you have a pretty sweet deal, don’t you, dishwasher? Dishwasher, I’m just fooling around, why do you look so freaked out? Hold on a second, dishwasher, wait a minute, are you wearing a wire?! What the… Hey, this dishwasher’s a cop! You betrayed me!
Thank you
… PEZ dispensers, for being little creatures that vomit candy out of their necks. You’re awesome.
Thank you
… the light bulb that’s been burned out in my house for the past two months, for reminding me how lazy I am. And when I finally do replace you, it won’t be with a light bulb I’ve bought—it will be with a light bulb from the least important light in the house.
Thank you
… zebras, for showing me what horses would look like if I were on acid.
Thank you
… person unwrapping a cough drop in the movie theater. I know you think that by unwrapping your lozenge very slowly it’s somehow less offensive. It’s not. I can hear every damn crinkle of that wrapper. Wait, are you rewrapping it just so you can unwrap it again? Thank you.
Thank you
… Febreze, for allowing dirt and filth to live freely among us in total secrecy.
Thank you
… Chili’s menus, for listing how many calories are in your food. I’M IN A CHILI’S! What part of “I don’t give a crap” do you not understand?
Thank you
… cockroaches living under the sink in my bathroom. First there were two of you, then there were four, then ten, then thirty. I don’t know how you reproduce so quickly, but I can only come to one conclusion: You guys are sluts.
Thank you
… microbreweries, for making my alcoholism seem like a neat hobby.
Thank you
… nickels, for being the redheaded stepchild of the coin community. You’re so thick, yet you’re worth so little. You’re like the quarter’s fatter, less successful brother.
Thank you
… the kids’ table, for providing an isolated eating area for both young children and adult relatives who nobody likes.
Thank you
… stuffing, for always being delicious, even though you’re cooked inside a turkey’s butt.
Thank you
… the choice between the sofa bed and the air mattress at my parents’ house, for making me choose whether I want to sleep on a series of poorly placed metal bars or on an inflatable raft filled with cold air that leaks until I’m sleeping on the floor.
Thank you
… post-Thanksgiving-dinner relaxation rituals, for being the one time when Uncle Gary can unbuckle his pants in front of the whole family and not get sent to jail.
Thank you
… gizzard bag inside the turkey. If I was interested in coming face-to-face with a moist bag of vital organs, I’d take a look at the old people across the table.
Thank you
… Christmas tree farms. You’re pretty much the only places in the world where a man carrying an axe in one arm and a toddler in the other can be considered normal.
Thank you
… wishbones, for being the final “fuck you” to the turkey I have just devoured.
