Long time between blog posts, dear readers. Soz about that, I am aware that some people actually care!

I have been feeling particularly uninspired to write lately (there’s no footy on, after all), but then on Monday something so hideous occurred that I had to put finger to keyboard. Here goes.

DISCLAIMER: MUM AND DAD – I know you are two of Chops At Home’s most committed readers. The following will gross you out. I suggest you read someone else’s daughter’s blog today.

A while ago, I hurt my hip while running. I know what you’re thinking, everyone. Chopsy, you are not a jock! You barely do anything physical beyond walking to the shops, because you love TV and reading and sitting around in cafes so much, you turd. But it’s true, readers. Last year I was running around Princes Park one night after work and I felt my hip do something weird and the next day I could not walk or sit or lie down or whatever.

At the time, I had some physio and x-rays and went to a sports doctor and all this other boring, expensive, ineffectual stuff. I discovered that there was nothing deeply wrong with me but that they couldn’t really fix it. The pain subsided, and I got on with it, except for the fact that I couldn’t comfortably return to running. Every time I tried, I would end up hurting the hip again, and the weird contortions my body would do resulted in some awesome lower back pain. This made me groan like an old person and exercise uncharacteristic gratitude that presently I don’t know of anyone who wants to do it with me. Bummer.

Anyway whatever, a couple weeks ago I went for a run one night and hurt my hip/back REAL BAD. A friend of mine has been saying to me for ages ‘Chopsy, go to an osteopath’ and as I am now a mature adult/possessor of private health insurance, I decided to give osteopathy a go.

The osteo was a lovely friendly bloke who suggested Pilates, a new handbag and some pelvic floor exercises to strengthen my core. It was basically like having a consultation with the sealed section of a 1997 issue of Cosmopolitan, but whatever. Who am I to doubt the advice of a professional?!

This week I went for my Pilates assessment and it was more embarrassing than the time I had a massage and when the lady asked if I needed any disposable underwear, I replied ‘oh no thanks, I BYO.’

The Pilates Assessment was with a physiotherapist who was bizarrely attractive. He had a man-bun hairstyle, which I usually find despicable, and was in no way my type, but had some strange and inexplicable allure. He gave me a pelvic ultrasound to show me how to correctly contract the core muscles so that I could properly learn how to support my back.

Here are three conversational standouts from this ultrasound.

The first.

Physio: This is the six-pack muscle.

Me: Well, theoretically.

Physio: Oh no it’s definitely there. Underneath that (*gesticulates*) stuff.


Physio: OK, so I am going to teach you to do some exercises. To explain it, it might sound a little awkward or funny, but bear with me.

Me: (smugly) it’s ok, I can handle it.

Physio: OK, so make a contraction like you’re trying to stop peeing mid-stream.

By this stage I am thinking LOL dude I am a mature adult I don’t laugh at words like ‘pee!’

Physio: OK, next one. Try to pull your anus in towards your vagina.

Me: (dies laughing) BUT WHY WOULD I DO THAT?!?!?

And finally.

Physio: Do you need to go to the bathroom?

Me: Um, nah. I’m cool.

Physio: It’s just that I can see that your bladder is REALLY full.

 Gross me the fuck out, guys. Love you. Merry Christmas. 

An open letter to Emoji app developers, or: Thanks for the kind turds!

Dear Emoji,

Firstly, I wish to congratulate you on what is without question a terrific product. The Emoji app, which adds an additional keyboard of illustrated symbols to one’s iPhone, is not only useful, it is a bargain at $0.99.

Whenever I bother to check iPhone updates (rarely), I am only really interested in whether or not Emoji has anything new to offer. Twitter, Facebook, Evernote, WeatherZone, and all the apps I actually use: who cares. All I am really interested in is whether Emoji has released any icons.

Emoji, you have done an excellent job on the existing icons. I would like to offer my especial congratulations regarding, in order of importance:


Smiling turd

Thumbs up

Euphemistic penic alternative

Actually, fuck the rest of them. I’m really only interested in smiling turd. He’s so friendly! And so useful!

While many iPhone slaves are extremely unhappy about the faults in Apple Maps, the recent update to IOS6 gave us a wealth of new icons to enjoy! Such as…

Disgusting tongue

Creepy moon

A little cloud that goes perfectly with the smiling turd

And my personal favourite, tempura prawn.

Obviously, these are excellent additions to the collection of icons and I applaud you, Emoji app developers. However, Emoji, if I may:

The present set of icons is still missing a crab (my most critical of future icons), not to mention the lack of lobsters.

The new set includes far too many cats.

Additionally, the new set does not feature a single black person.

I look forward to seeing these inclusions in an update in the near future. I would happily shell out $0.99 for a crab.




Contains adult themes

The following conversation took place in my office.

Chops: Stephie, you are going to be so proud of the very adult thing I have just done!
Steph: OMG Chops! You did it with a dude?
Chops (crestfallen): Um, no. I wish I could make you proud in that way, Stephanie.
Steph: Ohhh mate… So what did you actually do?
Chops: Got private health insurance.


I skyped the Chops household last night, as my Dad and nephew share a birthday. 75 years between them! It was great to chat to them, even though I was disappointed to miss out on the family tradition of a box of Cadbury Roses and being berated for taking too long to make a selection. “You don’t look at the bloody KEY, love! Just pick one! Fer CHRISSAKE.”

I was somewhat unsurprised to learn that Fatherchops been practising his crossbow skills in the backyard with our next door neighbour, who is approximately 86 years old, and, I expect, legally blind.

You just cannot make this shit up.


Today, I witnessed a slim, attractive blonde kiss her boyfriend full on the lips and say coquettishly “Sorry I taste like salad.”

That’s right. Salad.


Dogs do the grossest things



Johno: dad

Lucky: dog

Dan: nephew (10)


I am not a fan of gross-out comedy or anything along those lines. In fact, I am quite squeamish and easily nauseated, and as such I do not tend to laugh at piles of vomit on the footpath and the like. Poo jokes are one thing, but actual poos are not as funny, if I am to be frank.

However I have experienced a range a series of super-gross things lately.

1. Moving house. Disgusting.

2. Mindy’s avocado ice-cream on Masterchef.

I find Mindy’s supercilious posturing about as palatable as Andrew’s claims that he is heterosexual. When she put avocado, that most despicable of flavourless and poorly-textured fruits into an otherwise perfectly good batch of ice-cream, I actually dry-retched. Vomit.

3. Poo patrol

I took my nephew, Danowan Xtrm, to the pool a few weeks back. Before we had put the bags down, removed our thongs and outergarments and donned our goggles, Danowan Xtrm spotted a lifeguard with a net from 50m and shouted “Look! A poo!”

Cannot fault the kid’s eyesight.

4. Scrotography

Recently, half of Miss Soft Crab and I went to a game of footy at the MCG. Actually it wasn’t recent, it was Round 1. Anyway, we were up in the bar eating some roast beef rolls, amidst a sea of Roger David button-downs cut from five identical bolts of cloth. While enjoying our dinner, I spied out of my peripheral vision a bloke showing another bloke some photos from his iPhone. He was scrolling through the shots and went straight past a close-up picture of a scrotum without cause for pause or comment. His mate didn’t see fit to mention it either.

To be doubly sure, he scrolled back through the photo stream, and there it was again. Nutsack.

To be clear, I don’t find genitalia disgusting in and of itself. What I do find distasteful is that it is evidently so commonplace for a certain type of man to keep a photo of his dick in his phone that the discovery of such an image did not so much as raise an eyebrow from him or his friend. Disgusting.

5. Cat vs Snake

Also with Danowan Xtrm, I caught an episode of Bondi Vet. Not a show I would usually watch but I was in the family home and I’m pretty sure it was on straight after MasterChef. Anyway, in this episode, a cat was bought into the vet because it had been bitten by a snake.

The cat’s owner had ordered her teenage daughter to catch the snake in a SHOE BOX and bring it into the vet for identification. The female counterpart on Bondi Vet then administered treatment to both the cat and the snake.

And I just didn’t know what to think.

Regular readers of this here webular log will note that I a) hate cats, and b) have an intense reptile phobia. When the cat was bitten by the snake, I thought AWESOME ONE LESS CAT! But then they wanted to save the fucking snake? Are you kidding me? Without the snake, the cat wouldn’t even BE visiting Bondi Vet! Fer Chrissake!

I had a bit of a rant about this before Danowan sagely informed me that “Bondi Vet is committed to caring for all wildlife.”

6. Europenis

A friend of mine asked me what had happened to my Swedish love interest, who charmed me and took up much of my available time in May and June. I replied, perhaps slightly wistfully, that he had gone back to Stockholm for the summer. Friend noted, “yeah, that’s the problem with Europenis.”


7. Under-underdaks

I recently saw a bloke sitting in my local coffee-drinking establishment with his hand inside his underpants, while maintaining a conversation with his girlfriend. To be clear, his hand was UNDERNEATH the Underdaks.

Yep. Drinking a latte with one hand and cupping your balls with the other. Like it ain’t no thang!

8. No words

Lastly, this.

Cat Sitting on Stomach of a Pregnant Woman

You’re welcome!

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

CHOP LESSONS: Things I learned this week (Part 4 in a series)

It’s been a good week for Ms Mindy Chops. I returned triumphantly from Golden Plains after having had probably my best time yet in The Meredith Supernatural amphitheatre. It was, I think, my eighth visit, and gee whiz it was a belter.

I must tell you first about the high-functioning idiots we were camping next door to. Continue reading

Some things you could buy me, if you felt like it.

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, it is seasonally appropriate that the internet gets saturated with:
  • horrible craft ideas from twentysomething tattooed crocheting cupcake-makers, and/or
  • vitriolic sprayings from single feminists, and/or
  • tired, played-out articles in popular press about the commercialisation of the occasion.
I don’t want to get all ranty (don’t encouarge me) but given that V-Day does in fact encourage consumption, here is a list of things I would quite like as a gift if anyone would like to surprise me. My birthday is not until September and that seems very far away. Continue reading

What do you reckon?

Readers, I’m a little stumped for what to write about now that I’m back at work, there’s no football on and I’m trying to save money so I’m not even buying any nice things. Please don’t make me start dating idiots again just for the hilarity.