KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

Little Sissy Pham and I probably spend too much time together. Since living with her again, I've discovered that a) I sulk and b) when I sulk I sound like Eric Cartman from South Park - you know, "Respect mah authoritah!" Or in my case, I'm more likely to say, "I don't wannu! Nooo-hoo-hooo. You can't make me!"

I guess I haven't sulked for the last five years because nobody I knew in Melbourne would listen. All I can say to Little Sissy Pham is, suckerrrrrrr! You should never have listened to what I have to say. Now I spurt all kinds of crap. Mostly movie or TV quotes like, "You are a ri-tard." (The Hang Over) or "Wheezing the juice!" (Encino Man) and more recently thanks to the Descendants, which is a really heart-felt story that made Little Sissy Pham and I miss Mum Pham a lot. Though, its lasting effect on us has been that we yell, "You motherless whore!" or say, "I'm going to hit you." when we're annoyed with each other.

Annoyance can't be helped when you spend so much time together. We commute to and from work together, have lunch dates together, go shopping on weekends together, watch movies together, eat lots of food together…

The only upside I can see is, when one of us has to stay back at work, the other has some time to kill by window or actual shopping - the dangers of working in a CBD. One day, I bought a bunch of crap that I can't recall at this second but the highlight of my finds was Max Factor's max effect mini nail polish range.

It looks like Max Factor have followed the Maybelline mini-colourama route and released a range of tiny nail varnish bottles. I've been looking for a nice voilet for a long time because as much as I love pink nails, every now and then, I'm not in the mood for prissy colours and I tell myself violet is the tough girl's not-pink.

Sweden's Loreen "Europhia" - Kate Bush-esque performer, though she sings in an octave that's closer to planet Earth, who won by a landslide for good reason. This win concerns me - if Eurovision songs start being tasteful, where will I get my cheesy pop fix?

Once upon a time in a land far, far away (Germany), there lived a little princess (me) who had the magical ability to cry until her face turned blue and purple (true).

Her father, the king (Dad Pham), ruled the land (our apartment) with an iron fist (more likely thick, fluffy gloves - it gets cold in Germany). His way was the only way, and so football (soccer) was the entertainment of choice in the kingdom. Except for one special day each year - the Eurovision Song Contest.

When this contest of bright lights, cheesy music and spectacular spectacles was staged at court (on TV) the princess would not be distracted. If the king tried to sneak out for some football (change the channel), the princess would use her magic power (crying 'til she passed out) to strike fear in the king's heart and force his attention back to Eurovision.

Some things never change. This weekend, I'm watching the Eurovision Song Contest with Dad Pham. Semi-finals are on Friday 25th and Saturday 26th, then the grand finale is on Sunday 27th. Bring it on!

If caffeine turns you into an uptight, highly strung, angry person like it does me, then you may want to try caffeine-free dandelion tea!

I first learned about Symington's dandelion tea through Mum Pham. It was recommended for her liver so I never drank it because my liver behaves itself. But one day, I got hooked to coffee supporting Tiny, a new café run by a non-related Pham next door to my old work and Juddy Roller café, my friend's joint. When I started to become hulkish without a coffee in the morning, I quit by replacing my flat whites with dandelion tea. Dandelion tea tastes richer than normal black tea and the colour (if you mix enough) looks like coffee so you can trick yourself a little.
Symington's dandelion tea is naturally sweet so you don’t need to add honey or sugar, but I recommend drinking it with milk or soy. I took photos of both their new and old labels because I still see both stocked in supermarkets - either with other teas or in the health food sections. I'm not sure why they changed their cute retro label to an uglier, literal one but I try not to be angry at them because that's not what coffee-free me is about.

It's Dad Pham's 67th birthday today. To celebrate, he's going to dinner at his little brother's house and NO KIDS ALLOWED. The only time I'm ever a young 'un is in context with Dad Pham.

While the only time Dad Pham is treated like a kid is by his older sister, who babies him to this day. It's funny to watch because he's my dad and also because it's how I treat Big Brother Pham. Our Aunty sometimes comes over with pre-cooked meals for Dad to heat up when he's good and ready to eat. Then when we visit, she makes Little Sissy Pham, me and Dad sit in a row at her kitchen bench so she can fill her nieces and little brother with ice cream, before sending Dad Pham home with more food.

Age really is relative. Dad Pham was telling me this morning that some people call him 'bac' (respectful term for older man in Vietnamese) even though he's younger than them because he gives sage advice...and maybe because of his big, bald Buddhist head. Yet some people call him 'anh' as in big brother when he's 40 years their senior because he still likes to joke around - and he's not into 'dad jokes' either, he's got the sense of humour of a cocky youth.

Mum Pham once asked me in an incredulous and serious voice, with hands on hip and puzzled head tilted to one side, 'Why are you so funny?' I said at the time that I was obviously adopted or an alien from outer space, but now I see I get my cheeky, irreverent streak from Dad.

Well, Dad Pham, I hope you're having a fun 67th birthday with your siblings and I expect you home before midnight or I'm grounding you for a week.

I went to a hairdresser for the first time in 2.5 years last week. And got into so much trouble with my new guy. He had to cut away all the damage I did so now I'm going to live with a tiny ponytail on top of my fat head while I wait for my hair to grow out.

Why so long between snips? Well, my hair broke off about 2.5 years ago (not the hairdresser's fault, I went a bit nuts dying my own hair different colours every two months). Unfortunately, I waited one year too long because by the time I found a Brisbane hairdresser to try, I'd already hacked into my own locks a few times to trim, thin and tame it.

Boy, was Tony at Hair Corner (Shop 18, Elizabeth Arcade, 99 Elizabeth Street, Brisbane CBD - (07) 3211 1030) so very unimpressed with my work. I've never seen some one sigh, shake their head and purse their lips so much while cutting hair. I'm not so sure about this work-in-progress haircut but he assures me chopping it off was the best way to grow it out.
I am under strict orders to grow it without DIY hacking for 3-6 months. Then I have to come back so Tony can fix the layers and styling. Part of me wants thin out my fringe a little more but another part of me was impressed by how unimpressed he was with me and thinks I should probably listen to his instructions. I mean, he repeated them five times during the hour-long session so maybe he wants me to listen. He also could tell which hand and what type of scissors I had used to cut my own hair. The man knows his craft - who am I to defy him?

It's always a bit nerve-wracking to try a new hairdresser. Especially since I have to go to Asian hairdressers because they understand Asian hair but not always English. I've learned to bring pictures along to new hairdressers just in case. I had such a good, creative hair relationship with my retired Melbourne hairdresser, Kathy. Now I don't trust anyone else to experiment with my head. I guess it's a good thing I need to grow out my hair; it will give me time to get to know Hair Corner before I decide whether or not I trust them to shave a part of my head when my hair is long again (assuming future workplace/s don't have anti-head tattoo policies).

Okay. So there's one non-puzzle game (i.e. Tetris, Scrabble, sudoku) in the entire existence of nerdery that I play and that is Diablo - the series. Diablo I, Diablo II and next month the long awaited Diablo III. It's been promised for a long time but always the release date was extended so I never got my hopes up until it was officially official and for real with a release date and everything this year!

To prepare I made Big Brother Pham give me one of his two spare computer screens (underneath his builder's body is an IT brain that makes his own light-up, fancy, hyper-powered desktop PCs) and bought a mini-DVI to DVI adaptor to connect to my MacBook so I'd have this kick-ass screen. I already had the Apple magic mouse, keyboard with numeric pad and Griffin elevator desk stand for laptops from my indie fashion PR days.

I think my sudden need for a massive screen came from inheriting a double-screen at work (thanks for having a baby and going maternity leave, random lady I never met) to do editing work. Coming home to my 13" Macbook wasn't quite the same after I got the space station of a work desk.
I want Diablo III to be in my face and scare me so much I pee myself a little every gaming session. To add to the scare appeal, I also got a nice gold-tipped audio chord to run from my laptop to my radical new Sharp mini-hifi stereo system. Bring on the adult diapers!!! (P.S. My desktop images at work and home are from Seth Casteel's 'Underwater Dog' photography series.)

Sadly, I discovered upon closer inspection of the system requirements that my old faithful MacBook that's survived being trampled several times does not have enough video card power to run Diablo III. While Little Sissy Pham's MacBook could manage it, I don't think she'd appreciate me borrowing her laptop for 2 x 16 hour sessions on the weekends and 5 x 3 hour sessions weeknights (who am I kidding, those weeknight sessions will be 6 hours and I will go to work looking and feeling like a demon-slaying zombie).

I am now going to wait for the next gen of MacBook Pros. Rumour has it a slimmer more powerful range will be out early in the third quarter of this year, which means I'll miss the Diablo III May 15 launch date but I waited this long, I wait a little while longer.

I did consider buying a PC just for the game for all of five minutes because desktops are way better equipped for a game as intense as Diablo but... that is a bit extreme, even for me. A new MacBook Pro would let me game AND manage my photo work better, Little Sissy Pham won't have to kiss her MacBook goodbye for several months and my niece Little LL will inherit my trusty Miffy-taped MacBook. As she said upon hearing this, "Everybody wins!" except my bank account but Diablo III is worth it!

I got these Native shoes back in Melbourne thanks to the amazing grace of Diamond Dozen PR and Lucky Cat. They are soooo unbelievably comfortable and easy to wear. I pretty much live in these now and have developed a superiority complex towards Crocs wearers because peeps like Tommy Hilfiger, Diplo and (the actor who played) Steve Urkel wear Native.

I like to think I'm doing my part to add to Native's cool factor by wearing them to the beach, on my daily walks with Dad Pham, to the supermarket, movies, house parties and even accidentally to a couple of Brisbane clubs when I forgot to change into dress shoes. I still got into the clubs even though some poor suckers got turned away for wearing shorts instead of pants. That is the power of Native.
They come in a range of styles - they're available online from Style Tread and Surf Stitch. I got the Jefferson style in white, which pays homage to the classic Converse shoe. Though, I've already got my eye on some pink Jerichos after I wear these babies out. I don't know when that will be though. I usually stomp the heel off any sneaker or shoe I own within 3 months but Native shows no sign of caving into my heavy-footed pigeon-toe walk. I also want a pair of their Red Dot award-winning Fitzsimmons boots in yellow (The iPad and Dyson bladeless fan have won Red Dot awards - are you impressed by Native yet? I am!) and their Paddington gumboots in red.

...sometimes I wish I had more feet.