For Aussies everywhere, especially those in their mid to late twenties now, probably grew up with Kath and Kim. The show about nothing… well a show about two foxy ladies living life in Fountain Lakes. I myself grew up bloody obsessed with these two women. Kath is the mum for anyone unfamiliar, and Kim is the daughter. Most of the time they’re mispronouncing names, getting facts wrong, acting like foxy morons, and generally being legends.
Kim in particular was always a fountain of wisdom. It’s safe to say we’ve got a bit of Kim in us. We all have the potential to be a hornbag.
When she summed up your entire existence.
What one of us hasn’t tried the fool hearted mission of getting into a smaller pair of jeans. I find jean shopping to be a test of mental endurance. You need to be totally zen and ready to cry. So when we go for that size smaller in a vain hope of fitting them we pray. And use a coat hanger….
When she oozed self confidence like a boss.
Some mornings you wake up and just know today is gonna be a bitch arse day. You’re feeling good, feeling thin, feeling ready for anything. The mirror for a change is your friend. The morning mantra is no longer “I better go to the f**king gym”, it’s “I don’t need no gym, I’m a f**king masterpiece”
When she expressed your hate for prams.
What one of us hasn’t been cut off or hit by a pram in a shop? What one of us was trying to a find a carpark but could only find f**king useless pram spots? That’s another can of worms right there – why are there more pram spots than disabled?
In short everyone hates prams, even those pushing the damn things.
When she was classy as f**k.
I mean anyone who drinks wine is classy yeah? Having a glass of wine at wine time never goes out of style. Being wine drunk is always classier than being vodka drunk or even worse tequila drunk.
When she was all of us at the races…. or any party/outing/Saturday night.
Before starting any day or night out on the piss, we all have the best intentions for how we will behave. While many of us try and delude ourselves into thinking we’ll handle our drink, in the end we don’t. In the end we’re on our faces falling off our clacky mules (thats heels for those of us who don’t watch).