Tag Archives: adulting

Adulting is easy. It’s like making a cup of tea.

When you’re a small child, adults are fucking awesome. Sure, they might be the Enforcers of Rules (and let’s be honest, Rules suck) but they’re all grown-up and sophisticated and they have the answers to everything. They get to leave the house by themselves, and be in charge of what they do in every moment of every day. It’s kind of magical. It’s a level of life that you desperately can’t wait to unlock.

Some weird teenagey shit happens, you blink, and all of a sudden you ARE an adult, and yeah, it’s pretty cool for about.. three and a half minutes. But then you’re like “…..wait. Shouldn’t I have had some formal training first? What are stocks? How do I soft-boil an egg?”


One of the fun parts of early-adulthood years is discovering things that you should probably know how to do, but have absolutely no clue. And sure, you could ask another adult for help, but you’d rather swim around in your ocean of incompetence than let anyone in on the secret that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. A prime example of this is when I was on my first ever nursing placement in an aged care home. We were helping the residents with their meals, and I was asked if I could make some cups of tea.

“Sera, can you make Andrew and Betty some tea? One white with two, one black with equal. Not too hot though. But not cold. But definitely not too hot.”

So I smile and nod and walk over to the tea making table, and I try my hardest to make it look like I am not having a mild anxiety attack, because this is the moment where I realise I’ve never made a cup of tea in my life, and I don’t know how a fucking tea bag works.

I don’t know the process, I don’t know how long to leave the tea bag in for – do I even take it out at all? – I don’t know if I’m supposed to dunk the tea bag or swirl it around, I THINK I’ve seen someone squeeze theirs, how do I squeeze a tea bag without burning myself? How hot is too hot? Is there a difference between a young person’s idea of “too hot” and a 90 year old gentleman with Parkinson’s idea of “too hot”? Am I going to be held personally responsible for burnt tastebuds? Is the water to milk ratio the same as coffee? What the fuck is equal? What happens if my preceptor (the person assessing my ability to nurse the elderly) walks in while I’m staring at a tea bag in confusion like it’s a fucking time turner from another dimension? How am I allowed to be in charge of myself?

While I grabbed some mugs, I quickly sorted through my options. Faking a seizure was on the top of my list, but I wasn’t entirely confident that my acting skills were sufficient enough. I thought about excusing myself to use the bathroom so I could whip out the google machine on my phone, but apparently nurses don’t have time to pee. I COULD alert the Real Nurse that I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but I’d actually rather die. So I fumbled around and did some weird half-dunk-half-swirl motion, somehow managed to tangle my teabag string into unsolvable knots, threw the asshole teabags into the bin with disgust, and shamefully presented to these wonderful elderly residents, with all their knowledge and wordly wisdom, what was the most pitiful attempt at a cup of tea that the universe has ever witnessed. These guys have done their time. They’ve worked hard, they’ve built their lives, they’ve raised children, they’ve endured suffering and loss and ageing and frailty, they’ve lost a good portion of their independence, some of them have lost the ability to mobilize, and I can’t even offer them a cup of tea that doesn’t taste like Satan took a shit in it.


Luckily, I’ve come a long way since then, and just last week I received my first ever tea compliment. It only took me 4 years and 387,000 terrifying, soul-sucking tea-making attempts. So if you ever find yourself in a situation where you feel wildly incompetent, don’t worry. You’ll master the art of tea, and then you’ll discover that you don’t technically know how to turn a lawnmower on, and the cycle will repeat. Welcome to Adulthood! Feel free to share your failed-adulting experiences with me so that I don’t have to cry myself to sleep.

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The Adult’s Guide to Adulting

Hey guys! Guess what? I’m an Adult!*. And due to my Superior Adulting Skills, I’ve decided that I’m perfectly qualified to prepare our youth for the Hell that is Being A Grown-Up, in a series of helpful blog posts. I expect that these will be published in academic journals and referenced back on for generations.

*for legal purposes:people keep referring to me as an Adult, but I am very obviously three kids stacked on top of each other under a trench coat.

(Thank you Bojack Horseman)

This exclusive series will feature handy life instructions, devastating truths, and me using my own opinions as facts. After somewhat-successful completion of twenty-two long and arduous revolutions of the Sun, I’m finally speaking out about the struggles of Adulting, and the ways in which you can do a better job at it.


handy tips2

Tip 1: Write a grocery list.
This will ensure that you leave the supermarket with all of the items you require.

Tip 2: Leave grocery list on the kitchen bench at home.
This will happen whether you like it or not, so you may as well pretend like you did it on purpose so that you can feel good about yourself.
(Additional lifehack: “Pretend like you did it on purpose” can be applied to most tricky adult situations. Grin smugly and say “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” to achieve best results.)

Tip 3: Mentally prepare yourself.
Because walking into Woolworths is basically like walking into a strip club and having tits and ass thrown at you from every direction, except the tits and ass are replaced with marshmallows and pizza pockets and decorative cleaning cloths. This is (almost) never a good thing when you’re on a budget, but you will (always) always think it’s fucking excellent at the time.

Sometimes they dress the food up in fancy packages, and sometimes they do this thing called Strategic Product Placement, so that no matter how hard you try to stick to your shopping list (that you left at home) you’ll be suckered into buying more things. Strategic product placement is just a clever way of saying SNACKS, FUCKING, EVERYWHERE. Better hope you’re not on a diet, because you’re about to be eye-fucked by the cadbury company on every single corner.

Tip 4: Learn how to Deli correctly.
All this means is that when you’ve pulled your ticket number out of the ticket machine, you don’t continue standing in front of the ticket machine. I’ve conducted some research, I’ve done some calculations, I’ve made a quick pie chart, and the findings are conclusive: moving away from the ticket machine allows OTHER people to also use the ticket machine. Access to the ticket machine makes for a smoother and less socially-excruciating shopping experience for introverted assholes, like me.

Tip 5: Stick to your stereotype.
If you’d like the lead-up to any holiday season or celebratory event to be an enjoyable and visually-pleasing experience at the supermarket, it’s best to stick to your stereotype. If you’re a Mum, I strongly suggest having a music taste that fits somewhere in between Mariah Carey and Michael Buble, being obsessed with pastel pinks, and being aroused by baking utensils. If you haven’t made it your life mission to collect as many body lotions and bath bombs as possible, it might be a good time to do so. Unfortunately, my interests include musicians who shout obscenities and the colour black. This means that every-time my son and I walk past the gift tables, I have to try not to vomit as he “ooh”s and “ahh”s over all of the floral things he’d like to make me proudly display in my house. Don’t be me.

Tip 6: Don’t get too emotionally attached.
Because you’ll loyally purchase the same item every fortnight for like, eight fucking years, and then the merciless bastards will suddenly stop stocking said item without as much as a small, polite warning, and you’ll feel like they’ve murdered everything you love.

Tip 7: Don’t be “That Guy”.
Which guy? You know the guy. Actually, usually it’s not a guy; it’s a middle-aged stay at home Mum with three kids, reliving her fantasies of being a shopkeeper by using the self-serve checkouts to scan what I assume is about three million dollars worth of groceries. Lady, I’m genuinely interested in how much crack you had to lace your morning coffee with to think this would be a good idea. Your two trolley loads of shit are invading everybody’s personal space, your children are getting all up in my grill, and you are taking an enormously large amount of time, hence, fucking up the system that allows me to scan my seven items (a number of items which is appropriate in this particular setting) with the least amount of human interaction possible. When grocery shopping, it is important to never be this guy, so that I never have to throw a can of corn at you.

Tip 8: Be nice to your retail staff.
They have to deal with large quantities of human people every single day, and human people suck. Say please, say thank-you. Smile and say “that’s okay” when they apologize for the wait. The only exception to this rule is when they place your apples in the same bag as your bleach, even though you METICULOUSLY ORGANIZED THE GROCERIES ON THE CONVEYOR BELT so that they would be bagged correctly. If this happens, it’s perfectly okay to shoot imaginary poison daggers into their soul, so that maybe they’ll bag them PROPERLY NEXT TIME.


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Sex Nerd Sandra

Endlessly Curious. Always sex-positive.

Emily Writes

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Rockstar Dinosaur Pirate Princess

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Jeyna Grace ©

Imagination, the perfect form of escapism.

Musings of an eighteen year old nothing

Its better to look at the sky than live in it.