GETTING NOODLES; BLUFFING SOME OLD BACK PROBLEMS IN HAYWIRED PHONES (Hahahahahahahaha---they lost some sleep devising it and the victim is laughing like a Glee club fan member)
(I Love My Life)
By: Iris P. Concepcion

I should have been somewhere in Iloilo right now scouting for the best chicharon (weak condiment for noodles) but found a cheaper way to step on its gastronomic deliverance via a HK noodle stall. It is a great time waking up to the sound of Chito Miranda with his death allusions, done in a weird, warped way. Life is good I can almost taste it. He makes the headmen soooooooooooooooooooooo musically corrupt. He has done the reverse accolade and it is shown in his lyrics.

Artists do it precisely that way. When they see a picture they want to see, they do not block the view. If they want to write songs, they do not get some Bieber-gay doll to sing an offtune music. If they want to paint, they do not hoard the real ones via a floodgate wave. If they want to write, they do not allow old hags to mess up the printed words.

Artists, first and foremost, do not "buy" art from feeding programs. They simply "do" it. That is the worst, not to say, tackiest scam ever exposed. Feeding programs my God! Somehow, real artists remove the superfluous niceties from their life; they stop bickering about a non-functioning toilet and here: they do not bed their student-muses. Even if she is wearing smoking boots for that, that is still like, booby-weenie.

Daily, I find new things to be thankful for. And it is facing head-on the posseurs in their silly attempts to be cool. Sitting by the sidelines, I feel the "real" culprits laughing like crazies in their terrible outfits, talking like aliens i.e. " Hithit hooray!". Sounds like a portion of an axed program.

And I am almost lost in my laughing arsenal to express my guffaws when the clueless p.a.'s get their own melted ice-cream under the sun. You know, this is the film script: when their eyes get red from guilt and shame and their voice pipes seem to be transferred to their, like, ears, there is your camera. Upfront and true.

And when they get angry? That is my winner: when they get mad, it means we are hitting WELL. Silence does it. Always.

It is hilarious, what can I say? Now, if only they do not flinch from the dung and heat and work and MY music.

Hehehehehehehehehehehe. Lee Bluffed.

That is my new name.

And I saw a graffiti marking on the wall: EBS.

What the hell is that? But it made me laugh.