Learning to cohabitate…

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…with roaches. Dear god I hate roaches. Big ones. Small ones. Some as big as a reasonable sized rat that has probably doing steroids and too many bench presses at gym, bro.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll have seen my requests pleas about how to get rid of the pesky fuckers without burning down my apartment because deposits and references are needed when you can eventually afford to live somewhere where you can’t see your fridge from your bed.

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Food Groups Of The 20-something

Trippy Cat Eating Pizza

Part of being an independent, 20-something year old adult is learning to feed yourself and not end up some kind of severe nutritional deficiency/disorder/disease/die. Admittedly, when I first moved out of home, I depended a lot of frozen vegetables and couscous. Cause like, EASY. But I’ve realised that perhaps to avoid getting scurvy (THIS IS A THING YOU CAN GET ON LAND), I had to improve my game.

Kinda.

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Popcorn Dinners And Other Adulting Tips

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I wrote my first post about the things I’ve learnt about life since moving out home about a year after I left my parents place (so many skills, guys, I feel like TV lied to me about how to an adult – but it’s ok, I’m making up for it one popcorn dinner at a time). This is my fifth year out of my parents’ snug little nest and the fourth in my shoebox apartment. And man, the things you figure out. The things no one told you. The things my mom probably did but I totally wasn’t listening.

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I can’t wait to be 30

i cant wait to be 30

Wait, what?! Did a girl just wish away her 20s?! Hell yeah, bitches. While most of my friends are freaking out about being in their late twenties (disclaimer: I’ve had my fair share of OH MY GOD I AM SO OLD moments, mostly when the interns/junior staffers say there were born in the 90s), I can’t wait for my thirties to come around.

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Pressures of a 20-something: 30 is the new dead

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I wrote my first post on this yonks ago and then promptly forgot all about it. But every year as another friend passes the hurdle of 25 and is closer to 30 than they are to 20, the cries go up of ‘OH MY GOD HOW DID WE GET SO OLD?!’. It just never seems to go away, this idea that we have to have our lives Sorted (with a capital S!) by the time we’re 30, because after that, fuck we’re old and being put out to pasture.

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The Essential Guide to Shopping When Living Alone

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I’ve been living alone for about a year and a half now. Before that, I lived with The Ex Housemate. While we didn’t go shopping together that often, or, well, at all really, we’d often get shared items (bread!) or little treats (rusks! hot chocolate! biscuits!). Now, I live alone. I cannot claim that the mounds of chocolate in the fridge is shared. Or that those packets of microwave popcorn are not mine. Or that those rotting veggies are defs not mine. So I’ve learnt many-a-thing and developed my very own programme for all you fledgling professionals or trust-fund-varsity students.

*ahem*

Want to not die of scurvy? Try the Fool Proof Jess Method of Purchasing, approved by 100%* of test subjects and proven not to give you death-inducing malnutrition by our test group**.

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Metrorail Tales: An Awkward Ride

I know I’m in the minority when I say I love (ok, like) taking the Cape Town Metorail, but shit, have you seen traffic these days? Besides the occasional snafu  I get home in a ridiculously short amount of time (20 minutes to the Southern Suburbs?!). Anyway. I’m an attracter of Awkward Situations. Need to laugh at someone else’s expense? I’ll do you a solid today.

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