^
+ Follow CHRIS CUNNINGHAM Tag
Array
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                (
                    [ArticleID] => 392344
                    [Title] => Hot air
                    [Summary] => 



If there’s one thing I can’t be accused of, it’s growing mellow with age. On the contrary, I’ve found that the opposite is true: the older one gets, the angrier one becomes. Often, friends (or worse, acquaintances) spew remarks to the effect that I must’ve gotten up on the wrong side of bed this morning, that I should lighten up and stop being in a foul mood. One must not piss off others just as one shouldn’t wake up the neighbors. The world is too small to have enemies.
                    [DatePublished] => 2007-03-30 00:00:00
                    [ColumnID] => 135989
                    [Focus] => 0
                    [AuthorID] => 1308998
                    [AuthorName] => Erwin T. Romulo
                    [SectionName] => Young Star
                    [SectionUrl] => young-star
                    [URL] => 
                )

            [1] => Array
                (
                    [ArticleID] => 244041
                    [Title] => Pattern-al instincts
                    [Summary] => The future is so passé.

[DatePublished] => 2004-03-26 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 133679 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1149216 [AuthorName] => Audrey N. Carpio [SectionName] => Young Star [SectionUrl] => young-star [URL] => ) [2] => Array ( [ArticleID] => 211601 [Title] => Word to your Mutter [Summary] => My roommate and I once asked a friend if he could give us a ride home from school. "Fo shizza! Bitch, you don’t hafta axe, you know you is my girls, and I is yo nigga. Aight let’s bounce." In lieu of normal conversation, he started to rap about how he disliked his Philosophy professor but quite enjoyed marine biology. He cleverly rhymed Proustian with crustacean. In clashing contrast, my feeble comments resounded like a dead wall next to his mellifluent metering. My roommate, a stickler for grammar, pulled the stick out of her ass and beat him on the head with it. [DatePublished] => 2003-06-27 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 133679 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1149216 [AuthorName] => Audrey N. Carpio [SectionName] => Young Star [SectionUrl] => young-star [URL] => ) ) )
CHRIS CUNNINGHAM
Array
(
    [results] => Array
        (
            [0] => Array
                (
                    [ArticleID] => 392344
                    [Title] => Hot air
                    [Summary] => 



If there’s one thing I can’t be accused of, it’s growing mellow with age. On the contrary, I’ve found that the opposite is true: the older one gets, the angrier one becomes. Often, friends (or worse, acquaintances) spew remarks to the effect that I must’ve gotten up on the wrong side of bed this morning, that I should lighten up and stop being in a foul mood. One must not piss off others just as one shouldn’t wake up the neighbors. The world is too small to have enemies.
                    [DatePublished] => 2007-03-30 00:00:00
                    [ColumnID] => 135989
                    [Focus] => 0
                    [AuthorID] => 1308998
                    [AuthorName] => Erwin T. Romulo
                    [SectionName] => Young Star
                    [SectionUrl] => young-star
                    [URL] => 
                )

            [1] => Array
                (
                    [ArticleID] => 244041
                    [Title] => Pattern-al instincts
                    [Summary] => The future is so passé.

[DatePublished] => 2004-03-26 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 133679 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1149216 [AuthorName] => Audrey N. Carpio [SectionName] => Young Star [SectionUrl] => young-star [URL] => ) [2] => Array ( [ArticleID] => 211601 [Title] => Word to your Mutter [Summary] => My roommate and I once asked a friend if he could give us a ride home from school. "Fo shizza! Bitch, you don’t hafta axe, you know you is my girls, and I is yo nigga. Aight let’s bounce." In lieu of normal conversation, he started to rap about how he disliked his Philosophy professor but quite enjoyed marine biology. He cleverly rhymed Proustian with crustacean. In clashing contrast, my feeble comments resounded like a dead wall next to his mellifluent metering. My roommate, a stickler for grammar, pulled the stick out of her ass and beat him on the head with it. [DatePublished] => 2003-06-27 00:00:00 [ColumnID] => 133679 [Focus] => 0 [AuthorID] => 1149216 [AuthorName] => Audrey N. Carpio [SectionName] => Young Star [SectionUrl] => young-star [URL] => ) ) )
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