LEFTOVERS #7 & #8

What has ten legs, is 500 years old, and lives in Missouri?

Give up? It's a group of five neighbors in a retirement home who are each 100 years old. With new diseases springing up everywhere, wars on the rise, and the job market so bad that that "fake your own death and collect the life insurance" scheme is looking better and better...it's no wonder the rarity of so many centenarians so close together elicits the same question from people around them: "How did you live to be 100?"

So what were their responses? Conveniently our cameras were able to catch their word bubbles just as they were forming.

How did you live to be 100?


How did you live to be 100?


How did you live to be 100?


How did you live to be 100?


How did you live to be 100?


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Holy Sh*t, Grasshopper! There's A Shaolin Temple in New York!

Your dreams of becoming a badass kung fu master are just a few subway stops away, New Yorkers! We were just spammed with this link to an actual Shaolin temple. The website's calling it a "training center" though, since the word temple has a different kind of religious connotation in America. Mix a "temple" and "kung fu" in the mind of the average American, and who knows what you'd get at your door? You don't want guys tin foil hats chanting THE COMET COMES THE COMET COMES showing up in the middle of your Putting Your Fingers Through Someone Else's Face Class, do you? Of course not.


"Students! Show your loyalty to me by fighting the air! Good. Verrry good."

So we were looking through the site, really impressed. Front page quote: "Through years of patience and dedication, 35th-Generation Shaolin Disciple, Master Hengxin attained the highest levels of achievement and wisdom in the Shaolin Martial Arts." Someone named Hengxin, who's the 35th guy from his family to be doing this job so you know he's probably crazy go nuts about it, is going to teach us Kung Fu? Awesome.


Above: The first six weeks of classes are dedicated to learning to tie the robes on right.

But then we read this: "At the Center, Master Hengxin, with the help of his assistant, instructor Arlene..."
Whoa whoa whoa! Instructor...Arlene? Arleeeeeeene? Just say it and you'll understand how weird that sounds. The whole point of taking the classes would be to brag about how someone with an ancient Chinese name is turning you into a fighting machine of unparalleled fightitudinousness. Arlene sounds like a waitress at a truck stop. What if a rival master kills your instructor? You're honor bound to seek vengeance.


Above: "How do you like your waffles, Deadly Eagle Knife style or with compote?"

You don't want to be standing in the rain, robes torn from battle, look into the lightning streaked sky and shout, "I WILL AVENGE YOU...(sigh) Arlene."

But then it all turned out ok because we saw this picture of the actual Arlene.



And then she killed us for writing this. So now, reader, it's your turn to avenge us. Go outside, make it rain, and yell this to the sky, "I WILL AVENGE YOU, THE CRESPO!"

Then start packing your things up. You've probably been fired.

(You can't yell like that in an office, jackass.)

You're welcome anyway.

LEFTOVERS #6: One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Express Fish

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Express Fish

A recent report on America's dwindling fisheries stated that in an effort to attract more fish, state governments have been attempting to create artificial reefs (potential fish homes) by dumping, among other things, subway cars along the Atlantic coast.

We hope you have as much fun with mass transit as we do, fish.

THE ART OF "ART OF" ARTICLES

In light of the NYC ConEd fiasco and surfacing reports about BP Oil's prior knowledge of pipeline faults, Forbes came out last week with an advice piece entitled "The Art of Crisis Management" to assist shady corporate executives in getting out of well-deserved trouble. So we thought we'd just go ahead and unassist them with our own step by step lesson plan, drawings courtesy of the same Forbes' article.


Act Fast
In fact, you should act so fast that you appear only as a blur and are eventually dubbed "The Gray Smudge." If you act quickly enough, you can reverse time itself and maybe even save Lois from dying.




Be Visible
By growing 50 feet tall. Let them see who it is that's about to step on them and then mash through city streets using buildings as kick balls. It's the personal touch that will reel them in.



In House Red Cross
Hire a permanent in-office shill to declare you dead. Then have your wealth transferred to a pre-chosen fake identity in the Caribbean where you can live out your life like a king, but more importantly, like an anonymous king. Hey, it worked for Ken Lay.



Investigate
Be seen looking at supposed clues to your company's high profile mistake through an old fashioned magnifying glass. Tell everyone that electricity was responsible for the murder. When they ask "What murder?" find something on your jacket sleeve to examine until they leave.



Don't Hide the Bad News
Just blame it on trees. Everyone hates them. Pulpy little a-holes.



Set Up a Command Center
In the sky. When they ask you "Why is your command center in the sky?" simply fly away to the stars and rejoin your people.




Communicate Frequently
But only in a terrified voice while pointing to the sky. People respond especially well to that tactic in New York City. You'll have people on your side in no time.




Perception Versus Reality
At first inspection, fish are angry at you. At a second glance, they're too far away for it to matter. See? Perception V reality.




Be Sincere
The best way to do that is to have no teeth. People trust the elderly who are themselves frequently toothless. Don't forget to wear a tack in the middle of your tie.



Be Smart and Emphatic
You can do this by inventing the hovering, wireless light bulb. And then for emphasis, stare at it forever. They'll know who's in charge then.

We sure hope this was some help to you, corporate America. It was? Wow, things were a lot worse than we thought. Well, anyway, get some rest.

(The Crespo shuts off the hovering wireless light bulb and kisses corporate America on the cheek)

Goodnight.

Leftovers #3

iNudes

A new study shows that teens who listen to music with sexually explicit lyrics tend to have sex earlier than do teens who listen to Taylor
Hicks/James Blunt mix cd's, who tend instead to just get thrown down sharpened stairs a lot. Sexy music, active sex life? Really? Yeah, the study also showed that teens who listen to Madonna regularly crucify themselves while teens who rock out to KISS are busy turning into cats. Right.



Above: This could one day be your teen.
If only you'd given him a Dave Matthews cd.
Then he'd only have transformed into a frat.

Come on. Are those numbers accurate? All teens do is lie about how sexually active they are. By the time we were 15, according to ourselves, we'd had sex with three dozen bisexual supermodels all of whom inexplicably lived in Canada, or in one imaginative case, French Guiana.

Look though, if you want teens to stop having sex, it's an easy fix. Just start playing David Hasselhoff's "Jump In My Car" video everywhere you go with your teen.

Guaranteed abstinence for life. You get a subdued teen and the monasteries get a new recruit. Win-Win.
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Shilling for your thoughts?

According to BBC News, Mel Gibson now faces some very serious "drink-drive" charges. Drink-drive...how quaint. Come on, England! Drink-drive sounds too cutesy, as if you think drunk driving is vaguely charming in some sort of "irascible sot" way, as long as it's a noble or someone well-to-do in the driver's seat. It sounds like some slightly put-out 19th century constable just discovered Mel's inebriated, sleeping body draped over the harness of his horse drawn carriage which was found by following the trail of run-over Dickensian street urchins.

Constable: Not to worry everyone, it's just Master Gibson what ran over the orphans!
Obligatory Onlooker: Hip hip huzzah!
Then they drink sherry for 12 hours, turn red, and go home.

With that kind of nomenclature, it must be interesting to be accused of crimes in England.


Magistrate: For dismembering your entire family and then eating them, we formally charge you with having committed the atrocious and reprehensible criminal act of "Hack-Hack-Yum-Yum."



England: not necessarily "soft" on crime, but definitely "adorable" on it.
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Uneventful Horizon

Scientists on a quest to find hidden black holes in the local universe have found surprisingly few and so are conducting a census of them.

No, Mom, that's not me on "Pysch"

As an actor, I'm constantly being asked if "that was you in that Audi commercial" or "I thought I saw you as a dead body on Law&Order, was it?" Sometimes. Sometimes not.

The answer to the most recent spate of "was that you" questioning is, sadly, is no. And that question is, "Are you that guy on Psych?" asked in almost breathless tones. If I am not being asked if I'm that guy on Psych, I am being told that that guy, or rather the character he plays, behaves just like me.

Great. Not only does this guy apparently look like me (I don't see it), but apparently, he's stolen my mannerisms, which after watching the pilot, I can't fully deny. When I'm feeling playful and goofy, I sometimes pretend to be psychic as well as a little smarmy. That seems to fit the behavior of this character pretty well according to the trailer.

But for the last time, everyone who knows me or kind of knows me, from my time at Emerson or L.A.M.D.A. or from stand-up or from wherever...it's not me!

Not to worry, old friends and dear new readers, let me assure you that I have been on television yes, that I've been in a few movies too, and that I am as of this week verrrrry close to booking a couple national commercials. But no, you have not scene me on any major motion picture or tv show recently. Keep in mind, old friends and dear new readers, that I spend at least half my time writing or doing stand up or revealing fringe religious zealots for the nutjobs that they are (my own father included). Therefore my efforts and the fruits they bare will take a little longer to become apparent than had I chosen to pursue an "acting only" agenda.

This is all fine though. Thick Skin Mc Crespo here isn't bothered by any of that. I'm used to this occasional mistaking of someone else for me. It even gives me a perverse kind of hope, the thinking being that if someone who only looks like me can get work, then ipso facto, the real thing can't fail to get some nice juicy parts.

I fully believe that, if only because I must or I'd be replacing my body's electrolytes with my own tears every day. But, that does not mean, I relish dwelling in that frame of mind! For instance being told by twelve people on three different coasts within the space of two days that "that new guy on Psych looks and acts just like you!" is not what I would call helpful to the already constantly battered ego of any artist.

Regardless, thank you all for at least believing I could have booked that. As for the guy who actually plays the role of (and I'm aware of the nomenclatural irony here) Shawn Spencer...I'm happy for him.

His name is James Roday and I'm sure he deserves to be where he is. That said, I'm not so sure I deserve to be where I am, which is delivering juice to corporate executives all next week in an ungodly temp assignment in mid-town, but then, maybe I do. Maybe my engrams are acting up, right Scientologists!

Or a more likely conspiratorial scenario would be that my constant mocking of Scientology (Xenu Be Praised!) has blacklisted me.

Whatever the case, I'm here to help you distinguish between me, Sean Crespo, and the guy on Psych whose name is NOT Sean Crespo but James Roday. Below please find 6th grade style Flash Memory Cards. There are only two so you really have no reason for any more confusion. Just print then cut them out. Watch as your brain starts to work within minutes! And if that's not enough, Drink At Work's latest short film "A DRINK WITH YOUR COWORKERS" is available right below this blog entry on my site's main page. Hit play. Look at me, look at Roday. You decide.

Look, it's all going to be fine. Remember, my day is coming...it's just not...right now.

Or next week, since I'll be delivering juice.

Maybe the week after. I have nothing scheduled for then.

SIGH.

Enjoy.

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LEFT OVERS #1

YOU'VE GOT HAIL

According to the Boston Globe, Chinese officials are now using cell phone text messages to warn citizens of the approaching Typhoon Kaemi and other storms.



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You've got your iPod in my Nike.
No, you've got your Nike in my iPod.
No, you both just like buying the same kind of crap.

Nike and Apple have teamed up to create a gadget "the size of a pebble" to help measure your running performance. Yes, it's little, but it has heart, people! Just like Rudy. In fact, as of this moment the new iPod nano/Nike sneaker team up shall only be referred to as "Rudy."


ABOVE: Rudy


HOW IT WORKS: Rudy is made up of a teensy weensy (but heart-filled) instrument which measures your speed, distance and calories burned. You're supposed to place Rudy in a pocket on one of Nike's specially designed shoes. But don't feel pressured to use the sneaker. Why, you could hide Rudy almost anywhere.




Then when you're all set, listening to your tunes on your Rudy, a voice starts calling out your performance and towards the end of your run, its calls increase in frequency. That must be a lot of fun if you're just starting to get in shape.




And just like Rudy (that's Rudy from the movie), Rudy (that's Rudy the pebble-sized running computer) "goes long" with an internal battery that will last about 1,000 hours, which should be more than long enough for you to realize how awful jogging is.

Stay at home and wait out this ridiculous fad. Sooner or later they'll wise up at Apple and start catering to the everyman's needs. You mark my words.

iPod will team up with Pringles.

It's just a matter of time...for that invention and for your arteries.

Enjoy.