Apparently they’re forearm crutches like this. Never heard the term myself (USian).
That really sucks, SurrenderDorothy. 
This goes double or triple if the person on the video has absolutely no credentials in the subject under discussion. I got sent a video which featured some random Muslim guy explaining how women were inferior to men. Apparently, he was an expert on this subject because he was Muslim. He didn’t hold any position of authority, he wasn’t any sort of scholar, his opinion was supposed to have weight because he was Muslim. I would have been similarly unimpressed if he’d been Christian or Jewish, by the way.
When I googled them, the link for the Canadian Red Cross calls them forearm crutches, so yes, it does seem to be like the Canadian bacon thing. 
First I learn of “Canadian” as a secret code for describing black customers. Then I hear it’s a possible pejorative used for people who don’t tip well. And now it’s apparently used to describe little dinky half-crutches.
I think we need to start fighting back with “American” as a pejorative of our own. I’m thinking something along the lines of, “Gee Doc. You gotta help me. I think I have a case of American hemorrhoids.” 
And then it will eventually get shortened to just Americans - “My Americans are really acting up today! Boy, is my butt sore!”
Items for my Big Book of Grievances.
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My uterus. I have now bled 41 of the past 62 days. Having this uterus is like having an appliance that you don’t use, don’t want but it keeps requiring expensive maintenance and is drawing energy so costing you. Ugh!
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Insurance companies. Seriously, for 9 years my policy was in my preferred name, not my legal name. I don’t know why you did that either. I realize it should have been in my legal name. I am sorry you had a broker that was nice instead of correct, but Please fix it, the Insurance Company of British Columbia wants the name on my drivers licence on my experience letter. This is day three of phoning broker, company, broker, company, and not getting any real action. You have the letter. Just fucking get my name right.
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Bell Canada. Yes, I hate you but currently I hate Rogers more. So now I have to deal with you. It shouldn’t be this hard.
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Child support. I don’t want it, the law says I have to get it. Seriously this is a big pain in my ass for 70 dollars a month. Go away.
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EI. Seriously. I submitted everything you need. Do your job.
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Taxi Driver. Put the phone down and drive. I reported you to your company. Yes, me the woman who got out three blocks early and walked.
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NHL hockey referees. Either put on your dark glasses, get out your cane and the free buss pass from CNIB or do your fucking job.
This is just today. It is only May 2nd. I am not going to survive this month, I am sure.
I’ll drink to that. And the bit about insurance companies, as well. I got prescribed an ultrasound in February because my uterus was auditioning to be an extra in Evil Dead, and got stuck paying for the entire bill out of pocket. Because hey, why should a health insurance company pay for unnecessary shit like analyzing a uterus that hasn’t stopped bleeding for more than two months straight?
Oh hey, it’s okay, I didn’t really need that $1000 anyway… 
Fuck this country.
The fuck, brain? My ex broke up with me last November, sure I was sad, hurt, and confused for a couple weeks or so, but I got over it. Even rejecting her when she threatened me with suicide to make me take her back (and having to block her from Facebook chat because she kept playing the “I neeeeeeeeed you” game). By all accounts I’m over her, normal, and doing relatively well.
So why, today, did you decide to get jealous over the guy she dumped me for (who dumped her in two weeks hence catalyzing the whole “take me baaaaaack” thing)? Why did my brain decide “wait, no, I don’t think you felt properly sad earlier. I think we need to try this again!” As far as I can tell, there was absolutely no impetus, just walking around and suddenly my brain is like “hey, look how I can make you feel, bro!”
The feeling only lasted for a few minutes, but seriously, where the hell did that come from?
It’s May 2nd. Take the goddamn reindeer nose off your car’s hood already!!!
I fly every week, typically landing around 8:00 PM and my teenage son picks me up. I call when we land, wait outside for 5 minutes, and he pulls up. The magic of cell phones, and flight tracking. Very efficient. If for any reason the family comes to get me (hah!), they offer 2 hours of free parking at the airport if you want to meet your party.
So to the rest of you idiots. Do NOT park at the curb at arrivals. I will smile at you as the Sheriff threatens to ticket you, and smile more if he actually writes you up (only 1 in 10 sadly). See, you leave NO space for my son to pull over and pick ME up, where I am standing at the curb. You make it dangerous for those of us who have to get by to step into traffic. You also sit there with your engine running, while you glance around like an idiot. Check your fucking smartphone for the flight time, and go park.
Dearest Husband
You spent 3 months bitching about how your daughter did nothing but look at her phone during dinner, walking, doing stuff. How she lay around in pajamas on her day off and did nothing.
You have become THAT PERSON. So I get you to put on some pants and go out for dinner. (Because the kitchen is so damn messy I can’t stand it and will freak right out if I have to cook. And because the window washing company is power washing our windows and I can’t get a fucking breath of fresh air in this house. So we eat out or we have bitchy mommy… ok…great pants on we are going for dinner.) Now you have done nothing, not watched the Habs/Sens game, not conversed with the Boy and myself, but read CBC.ca on your phone. Put the motherloving phone away before I insert it into your left nostril. Yes, the one with the zit on it, because it would be more painful.
Seriously. Going out for some Mom time now.
I’ll be back when I get it right.
You didn’t happen to walk past someone who smelled like her, did you? That’ll do it and you won’t even notice.
Is it possible that I NEED my calluses on my feet?? My doctor told me to get a pedicure since I was cutting my toenails all wrong. Dammit. Now the lovely and long suffering pedicure lady scraped my feet with something that resembled a cheese grater. And the bottoms of my feet HURT! And there goes my 2 miles a day on the treadmill!’
Limping off.
Fucking snow in May! Husband ends up in a ditch driving to work - he’s fine but major bodywork will be needed on the car. I’ve got our non-profit company’s major fundraising event tonight and the roads are “completely covered with ice and slush; towing services prohibited”. Gotta get out and transport stuff anyway, then find time to come home, get ready for a formal event, and go back to work for hours tonight. I expect the whole thing to be a bust now anyway, with half the attendees blowing it off.
Oh yeah… you think y ou have it bad… I get several emails A DAY from my dad complaining about snow. Three with attachments so far this morning.
They have only been talking about moving to Vancouver (where I am) for a year. Shit or get off the pot dad.
Seriously I am sorry it is snowing in May. That is horrible. On the other hand my dad’s emails are bor-ring.!
There are what, seven billion people in the world? And quite a few of those people are annoying. And maybe if you searched the world over, you could find, say, the 20 most annoying people in the world. But you wouldn’t have to search the entire world for the 20 most annoying people - they were all on my bus this afternoon. :mad:
You know, that reminds me, I am also tired of all the tards who persist that overpopulation is a myth.
After a very stressful week, when I’m finally done, my intestines blessed me with diarrhea with about ten seconds’ warning. I made it, but, fuck them.
in b4 “what do you think this is, Twitter”