I have this bad habit of constantly nibbling at my lips and inner cheeks. At the end of the day, my jaw, cheeks, lips, teeth, and tongue all hurt, and yet I just can’t stop! If I’m not doing it, chances are it’s because I’m concentrating on holding everything still.
I don’t even know what to call the problem or what kind of doctor would know what to do about this.
It’s AIDS. You’re going to die. Can I have your stuff?
I knew it!/No
Dammit! I found the perfect part-time job this morning - four mornings a week, three to four hours a day, good pay, right in my neighbourhood, doing accounting-type work. Oh - working every weekend. My husband has weekends off, and I’m far past working weekends in my career. That’s how my job search is going - all the jobs are perfect except for one deal-breaker. Well, at least the weather is nice so I can spend all day working on my yard.
Since the behavior involves your mouth and associated accessories, I think that a dentist is exactly the type of doctor that would know what to do about it.*
Ask your dentist to make you a mouthpiece. Generally, dentists will give you one of those to treat nocturnal bruxism (grinding your teeth while you sleep), but wearing one during waking hours will probably enable you to ditch the habit.
If your occuption is such that going through your day with one in is impractical, start wearing it over a three-day weekend.
*P.S. maybe an ENT doctor, but I think he’d be more likely to refer you to a dentist.
Yikes, the dentist? I may have to do that though. This shit is getting miserable.
The dumbass plumber who came out to replace our water heater flue turned the water heater down, and forgot to turn it back up. We ran out of hot water this morning, so I didn’t get my shower. My hair is greasy, I stink, and I itch.
Or you could pop down to the local sporting goods store and pick up a generic one*. The one from the dentist, being custom made, might fit better and be more effective.
*look in the section of the store where they sell supplies for boxers.
This isn’t me, though. I didn’t know about sprinkling baby powder in your hair when you don’t wash it until I read this thread. Everybody in my house is an adult, so we don’t even have baby powder.
Why not send in a resume with a cover letter that says, “I think I would be a great asset to you because of X, Y, and Z, but the weekend scheduling presents a conflict for me. I’m very interested in the position–I’ll be contacting you in the next week to discuss whether we might be able to reach an alternate scheduling arrangement”?
See, to me, also not a doctor, this sounds like a terrible idea. Grinding your teeth at night seems very different from biting the insides of your mouth all day. If he was constantly bouncing his leg, would you suggest putting it in a cast?
I should probably go to the dentist at some point about this anyway, because I think I’m loosening my teeth. 
No, but here’s a personal anectode: when I was seven, I was still a thumb-sucker, and it didn’t look like there would ever be a day when I wasn’t. One day I got a cut on the thumb that was usually in my mouth, and my mom put a Band-aid on it. I couldn’t tolerate putting that in my mouth, so I kept it out, intending to resume normal thumb-sucking activities when the bandage came off.
Two days later, the bandage did come off, but I never sucked my thumb again.
Point is, if Dung Beetle can put the habit on hold by concentrating on not doing it, ISTM that giving her something that lets her put it on hold without having to concentrate on it could do her some good.
You should call and yell at him, so he doesn’t forget on the next house.
Does your office building have a shower you can access? Using that might be overkill, seeing how you’ll proably be home soon to a full hot water heater.
I would normally be interested in trying something like this, but this particular job is pretty much weekend-centric (doing cash accounting for a local pub - their busy days, of course, are Friday and Saturday).
Yeah, but a giant mouth guard that’s intended to be worn while sleeping (or playing sports) isn’t going to be conducive to most daytime activities, i.e., ones that involve talking. I suppose if **Dung Beetle **works from home or something it might work.
Psh, just ask 'em to cut back on their weekend hours. I’m sure they’ll be amenable.
We don’t work at the beach. Leave the fucking flip flops at home. What the hell is wrong with you people?
Hey, asshole professor! Yeah, you on the leg press in the circuit room. You know, the idea of a circuit room is to, you know, make a circuit around all 18 machines in the building. But you’re just sitting there talking to some former students (it’s a student rec center). This isn’t lounge time, buddy. If you want to chat, get your ass off the machine and go elsewhere. The rest of us would like to use that machine in the next, oh, hour or so.
Heh. You may be a prolific scholar, but I know that my manners are better than yours. I have something over you.
I’m not moving because you have the right of way. Just because my office driveway empties into the top of a road “T” doesn’t mean I’m in traffic. By law I’m supposed to yield to street traffic before entering the roadway.
Hey, Mom,
Yeah, I moved and didn’t tell you. That’s because I can’t trust you to know where I live. Now I have to deal with a renewed surge of calls from tangental people I barely know and don’t want to speak with calling me up because you’re going around boo-hooing about how your daughter won’t talk to you.
Sometimes it’s not worth explaining to them that no, in fact you DO know if I’m alive or dead, because I respond - sometimes - to your emails and texts. (No, I’m not responding to your spam glurge. Stop sending me shit that tells me how distilled water causes cancer, or some crazy shit like that.)
Sometimes it’s not worth explaining that I feel like I have to protect myself from you.
It’s almost never worth explaining WHY I feel that way.
Your daughter doesn’t want to have anything to do with you because you’re a manipulative, psychotic, evil, coldhearted bitch. You always leave that part out.
Divorce my father already so I can have a relationship with him before you drive him into an early grave. He’s absofuckinglutely worthless while under your spell. I’ll cry when he’s dead. You? If I go to your grave it will be only to verify that you are really and truly dead, and done ruining my day and my life. Maybe I’ll dance a little. Maybe I’ll put flowers on your grave - those horrible cheap fake ones.
And SERIOUSLY, you have got to stop calling Mr. Horseshoe’s parents. His father knows better than to pick up the phone when he sees your caller ID, but his poor sweet mother is too conscientious and polite to ignore you. I’m about to block your damn number from their phone - a serious boundary violation on my part, I feel, but that’s what you’re driving me towards. Leave her alone! She has no defenses against a monster like you.
I know you dragged it out of her what neighborhood we moved to. (I know b/c she immediately called me to apologize. ) Now we have to worry that we’ll see you driving around the streets, trying to spot my car in front of my house. Couldn’t you at least have the decency to threaten my life in front of witnesses so I can just get a damned restraining order or something already? Why do you always use the subtle, emotional abuse and manipulation?
Now Mr. Horseshoe is getting pissed at me because trying to estrange myself from you is starting to actively affect his own family. Leave me the holy fuck alone, and stop getting all your psycho friends to call me boo-hooing at me about being such a horrible person. I almost lost out on the job I currently landed because I have to screen my calls so aggressively.
<pant><gasp><wheeze>
I think that’s all for now.
I’m going to go home and hug The Other Shoe long and hard for being such a shining counterpoint to her toxicity in my life. I blew him over my lunch break, so he may not be up for anything too vigorous again today (that’s right, bitch! your daughter <horrors!> does sex! and likes it!) but I hope he knows how much I appreciate him.
I was supposed to go out with a friend tonight and she bailed on me. Didn’t even tell me til I called and asked. So here I sit all dressed up and made up, with an overnight bag packed (I was supposed to sleep over) and it’s just me and the stupid smelly dog. God I hate that dog.
I’m going to go change into pajamas and wash my face. I guess I ought to be studying tonight anyway.