KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

Once there was a very dark (wardrobe) time in my life when I favoured black clothing, black hair, black underwear, black bras, black nail varnish and black socks. No, I was not emo nor Goth nor punk. I had just moved out of home and didn't know how to get food stains out of my washing, which sucked for two reasons - I love food, what a waste to have it on my clothes instead of in my gut; I love bright colour, what a shame food stained clothes aren't fashionable. So I never wore white and if I wore colours, they were dark and camouflaged specks of spaghetti sauce, curry or lipstick smears.

Life was like that for the first six months of independent life. Then I moved into a warehouse with 9 other boys and soon enough all my black socks migrated into the boys' wardrobes. And I guess this is where my adventures with coloured apparel, laundry techniques and increased food to mouth ratios began.

At first buying bright patterned socks that no one in their right mind would wear (pop colour wasn't fashionable five years ago, you know) was a way to keep my socks separate. Then as time went on and I moved into other sharehouses with a third of that population I kept up the colourful socks. My current set of ankle socks (don't like the shin-high socks, over my phase of knee socks) is the fluoro solid colours and white with fluoro stripes from Big W.

I love it when I make a wish and some one (usually a nerd) grants it. Vodafone's mobile network experience helped me master the art of frowning during its 2010 vodafail year. Resetting a phone every hour to receive texts (usually about calling people back because their call wouldn't connect) helped me to overcome my pro-tightass ways and switch over to Telstra's mobile phone network.

Telstra is a dream. I pay $20-40 more a month for similar caps to Optus, Virgin and Vodafone but I consider it an investment in preventing stress and acne breakouts.  I haven't had any connection issues whatsover in the 13 months I've been with Telstra. The only minor downside is I have to pay for international texts. That is why I love WhatsApp so much.

WhatsApp is an alternative for SMS that uses internet to send messages (text, pics and videos). It costs $0.99 (the cost of two international texts on my phone contract) in Australia and now I get to stay in touch with traveling friends who also have the app on their smartphones (iPhone, Android, Blackberry, Nokia, Windows - this app doesn't discriminate) .

Who wouldn't want to receive a video of my cat while they're overseas? Probably everyone so just humour me and watch Tigger Pham loving life.

I can't tell whether I go cross-eyed when I look at the camera because I'm Asian or because I am actually a little cross-eyed. Non-Asians don't seem to have this trouble - or maybe they do and they simply don't post these photos on the Internet.

I like my eyes despite their design flaw so I highlight them most mornings (dependent on mood, sleepiness or lateness) with my favourite Maybelline gel eyeliner. I've been using it for a good year and my jar is not even half empty. True, I didn't put on eyeliner while I was moving between states and job hunting for about 4-5 months. Still, I used to crunch through about four or five eyeliner pencils a year so one jar that costs almost the same as one pencil but lasts all year is an absolute bargain if you ask me!

The gel stays put all day long too - I don't need to touch up my eyes if I go out after work. It doesn't smudge or scatter the way pencils do. The brush is also very precise and you don't need to sharpen it like pencils. Maybe touching up and wastage accounts for the big gap between how long a jar lasts compared to zee inferior pencil.

My work contract ends next week and I possibly (under Liberal, probably) won't get an extension so I've been doing what I usually do when something bad is happening. I find the silver lining.

I've met some great people - I couldn't have asked for a nicer team to get me back into work-life after last year's unhappy ending. I was also introduced to the double screen workstation, which makes me wonder how I ever did any editing work on a single screen before. It inspired my own desk set-up at home.

I haven't quite found a silver lining for missing out on the team's delicious home-baked goods once I leave... I guess you can't win them all. I did, however, win big at finding cute work shoes on eBay from Australian Designers Direct.
These cute little girly style brogues with kitten heels were so awesome, I got two pairs - one in black/white, the other all-black and I'm seriously considering the khaki/black too. There are limited sizes and colourways left from this seller so get in quick if you want a pair!

The heels give that nice satisfying clomp, clack, clomp sound (the clack is my left pigeon-toed leg) that only solid heels can make when you walk. I also many compliments and even a free lamington from wearing these shoes around the office. I will sure miss getting free food and compliments at work but at least I'll have Tigger Pham to entertain me when I'm home looking for work.

Every family has at least one oddball. In our Phamly, we had four. Big Brother Pham has minimal quirks and eccentricities making him the closest to normal and, therefore, our black sheep. Literally. He works in construction so his skin is a lot darker than his sickly office worker sisters. In fact, one time he came to pick me up from the airport and I walked passed him thinking he was Maori. He let me walk pass because I looked like an English ranga and not his Vietnamese sister at the time.

Big Brother Pham is always pointing out our oddball gene. Like the time Little Sissy Pham and I were singing Jingle Bells at the top of our lungs in bed at night. Big Brother Pham came storming in because our squeaky voices were keeping him up, to yell, "Why are you singing Christmas carols? IT'S NOT EVEN CHRISTMAS!!!" It didn't shut us up but we sang a little quieter after that because he had a good point.

Big Brother is also the only Pham sibling who can do anything practical. He can fix fences, build computers, install toilets, make babies, replace door hinges, tie ropes, raise babies, move a house. Me: I injured my wrist putting together an IKEA bed and continue to bruise my legs every week by walking into the bedframe. I do slightly better than Little Sissy Pham who was once bedridden with 20+ stitches in her knees because she tripped on her own pants and landed badly on her knee. Then while she stayed home waiting for that knee to heal, she walked into her own IKEA bedframe and smashed her good knee, requiring another dozen stitches.

Things like this just don't happen to Big Brother Pham. He's survived flipped cars, knife attacks and my road map directions - things that would kill any lesser Pham dead.

You could be a hero. Like me. The other day, while waiting in a face painting queue with my niece at the RSPCA Wacol launch, I overheard a worried mum and Aunt who had left their sunscreen in the car and their little girl was looking rather flustered. I pulled out my mini LeTan SPF 30+ sunscreen lotion (in my head, it was accompanied by a triumphant 'ba da!' trumpet sound, but I knew better than to sing it out loud) and offered it to the pink-looking family behind me. I think I saved their lives.

I completely forgot about my act of heroism until I walked by a stack of mini LeTan SPF 30+ tubes in Big W. I bought one for Little Sissy Pham, who was undergoing UV treatment for her psoriasis and extra susceptible to skin cancer at the time, but also because I wanted her to be a life-saving hero too.
I got a coconut scented LeTan for free at the 2010 Vans Bowl-a-rama in Sydney, which suits me fine because I like smelling like food and my nose is always a little clogged from being allergic to life so it doesn't overwhelm me. But there's non-scented versions for people with better senses of smell, like Little Sissy Pham.

Buy yourself a mini sunscreen for a few bucks and you will soon be a hero like us!

It was Mother's Day the day after Dad Pham's 67th birthday. To celebrate, Little Sissy Pham nearly ran over Dad Pham with her car - I assume to honour Mum Pham's memory by taking out her living competition? Sissy Pham reckons she technically only nearly knocked him over with a part of her car (the open door)… yeah, because there's a real difference. Either way, she nearly killed our father the day after his birthday.

I used a less aggressive approach to Mother's Day. I took inspiration from the awesome Book of J.E.M. my friends made me and made a photo memory book to give to my Sister-Not-In-Law, the mother of the two most beautiful nieces an overbearing Aunty could ask for.  I've taken some hilarious, sweet, cute, crazy, embarassing photos of the girls over the past 8-9 years. My goal was to mortify them on their 21st birthdays but the photos came in handy earlier than anticipated.

I viewed and mapped and planned and counted and culled and edited and printed and cut and pasted then decorated 233 photos into a 50-page craft book for the whole day. It took about 10 hours in total and one nearly burst blood vessel when Mini-Me (niece #2) tried to help and messed up my OCD-quality ordered stack of photos (Big Brother Pham had to herd her away before I died from self-restraint) but we got there in the end!
I wish I'd taken a photo of the finished product with all the Pham's handwritten notes inside the cover but by the time I remembered to, Little Sissy Pham had already gift wrapped it. You'll just have to trust me when I say the PhamLe Mother's Day book of 2012 is awesome.

We also did a Buddhist cermonial prayer for Mum Pham, which Dad wants to make our new tradition because it's happier than the annual ceremony we'll do for her day of passing. The ceremony involves incense, sending love to mum and eating food so I'm all for it. Hope everyone had a nice Mother's Day too!

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!