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KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY


One thing I've learned transitioning from a small business where it's usually me and the owner then maybe another colleague or two to medium and corporate offices is that shared spaces with five colleagues and more is never a good time. There are always the clean freaks, the careless and the adult kids whose parents never taught them any better. Put the spectrum in one space and sparks, in the form of passive aggressive signs, fly to no avail.

Don't get me wrong. I'm on the passive aggressors' side. Clean up after yourself, follow Dan Savage's relationship advice - leave the campsite better than you found it... There shouldn't be the need to put up signs instructing people to be decent human beings. Why am I picking old banana peels and plastic bags out of the recycling bin when someone put up a sign that explicitly explains what can and cannot be recycled? Ew!

One of my favourite signs in the office though is in the toilet cubicle. There's a not so secret war against whoever is not replacing the toilet paper roll. Something about the sign combined with the toilet paper brand name 'Who Gives A Crap' gives me the giggles. Clearly the culprit does not give a crap when they take a crap. Not knowingly at least.

The culprit is still wiping right by wiping at all because the more toilet paper we use, the more Who Gives A Crap can contribute to building toilets for the less fortunate. We take toilets and toilet paper for granted in Australia but it's crucial for hygiene and health.

Work uses the regular Who Gives A Crap toilet paper but I am a Premium subscriber because I want only the best for my bum cheeks given the choice. The subscription is 100% flexible - you can log in online and change the next delivery date if you have too little or too many toilet rolls left. They come in boxes of 48 so prepare to store a big box of toilet rolls. I build a pyramid next to my bed currently but when I move to my own place this weekend I'm going to stake a spot and claim if for Who Gives A Crap toilet paper storage. I also use their facial tissues. I tried the paper towel but it's not very absorbent so I haven't ordered more. The delivery service is super quick and free to metro areas. Plus, their customer service team is excellent - I've canceled subscriptions before to change my order and both times I contacted them, they were quick to respond, helpful and stupidly friendly. These people give a crap and so should you.

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So, I've been keeping a secret. I'm dating someone. I've been seeing him for a while but kept it offline because we met at work and were avoiding some inconvenient office politics. The good news is, he's since left the company so I can write about him. He's great - he's funny, smart, and my friends' favourite part is he's upfront and honest (unlike previous people in my life). A bit too honest. Which is why at 34, I learned that I don't know how to chew and breathe at the same time. I am a mouth breather when I eat. Little Sissy Pham backed him up enthusiastically saying I am so loud when I chew.

We were listing things we found annoying about one another because that's totally healthy. We couldn't think of anything really so we picked petty little things we don't really mind. My two annoying yet tolerable traits are I don't push in the chair at the dining table, which I've since started doing and I chew loudly with my mouth open, which I can't figure out how to do quietly.

I have a persistent stuffy nose because I'm allergic to life. My hay fever is nowhere near as bad as it used to be in Melbourne, my eyes aren't red and sore most of the time but my nose lives in two states - runny or clogged, never clear. So while I can't chew with my mouth closed all the time like a regular a person, I can suffer through it until I run out of breath then try not to suck in air too noisily before I begin chewing again. My attempts have been very poor, according to him... but at least I try or, think about trying. Some of the time.

Such is my life right now. But hey, we're all learning and growing every day, right?

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It's Phamly tradition to sleepover at Dad Pham's house for the Eurovision finale. This year it happened to be Dad's birthday weekend so it was double the fun. On Saturday, he invited his siblings over for lunch and Little Sissy Pham and I made Vietnamese Pancakes - it's the only recipe I've ever posted on this blog because writing recipes is too much like my day job and blog writing is self indulgent fun. For 70 and 80 year olds, they sure know how to party. My Aunty rocked up with more beer than she could carry. Lunching, drinking and chats went for 4+ hours - Little Sis bowed out and went home before any of the elder folk. Dad Pham was exhausted by the time everyone left but he had a blast because it's rare for him to see his siblings all together.

After lunch, I sat with Dad for a couple of hours just chatting. It's been a long time since I've had proper downtime with Dad. Mostly we grocery shop, and cook so our hangs are chore driven. I'll save his stories from today for another time.

That night, I made more pancakes for Big Brother Pham and Sister Not-in-Law. It was a fun time. I was so pooped after a whole day of cooking and hosting, I feel asleep early that night. I slept in the lounge room because Big Brother Pham's tools have taken over what was once my bedroom. Guess that's what happens when you leave home, your room becomes storage.

The next morning I awoke to Dad Pham beaming down at me at 4.40am. He woke me up early because he expected to have to come back and wake me up again like he usually does. But this time, I popped right up - went and made a coffee and set up snacks on the coffee table. Then we settled in for 3.5 hours of Eurovision glory.

This year was not a disappointment. The majority of the songs were decent tunes and we couldn't pick who the top songs would be. Australia totally tanked this year - the novelty of having Australia in the competition is gone and while Jessica Mauboy's song was good, it didn't stand out against the stiff competition. I didn't love the winning song - I thought it was different and quirky, but so ridiculous. I guess that's Eurovision for you, though. Here are my highlights from this year.

Dad's top pick was Sweden's Benjamin Ingrosso with "Dance You Off":




I thoroughly enjoyed good old fashioned power pop from Lea Sirk from Slovenia with "Hvala, ne!" but it's way to cool to actually win Eurovision:



This is the type of crazy that wins Eurovision - Netta with "Toy" took out the gong for Israel:




It's rare I like the French entry but this year they were all class with Madame Monsieur "Mercy":



Finally, I have a thing for Vikings so Denmark make my highlights list. Oh, hellooo Rasmussen with "Higher Ground":





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I don't remember leaving Germany. I don't remember the flights to Singapore then Brisbane. But I do remember the very first time Brisbane's heavy, humidity hit me in my chubby little face because it felt like a clinically obese cat had pounced on my chest and I suddenly had trouble breathing when I stepped out of the plane. I stood there gasping in air until Dad Pham lead me down the steps onto the tarmac. After the initial shock, I was fine. Well, for now. We went inside and met Dad's eagerly waiting Phamly.

Dad Pham tells me they took us back to our new rental home on Wedgetail Street in Inala, around the corner from where Dad lives now. I don't remember the ride back from the airport though.

My next memory of Australia is crying alone on a sofa. I had been crying for a long time so the adults had left me alone because I was inconsolable and everything else they had tried only made me cry harder. Dad and Mum Pham don't know why I was crying so hard. I was only 4 years old and couldn't possibly understand what was going on. Maybe part of me knew everything was different now.

I remember my cousin came out to offer me a bag of peanut m&ms. I took them and ate them - still sobbing. I fell asleep on the couch exhausted hugging the bag of chocolates, and so began my love affair with my favourite, guilty pleasure comfort food. Peanut m&ms is how I cope with all life trauma now. Except for watching A Quiet Place. Boy-oh, did I regret bringing a loud snack into the cinema - oh how I longed to munch on them to cope with the stress of living the brilliant story, but I couldn't because the cinema was dead silent.



- THE END -

If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more
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