Sucks To Be You


There are certain jobs that just suck. Period. There’s no more eloquent way to put it. Even if you have a master’s degree in English & can fluently speak six other languages, there are still things to which you will find yourself saying “this sucks.” Can the majority of us agree that there are some jobs that suck worse than others? Perhaps, worse than the ones we have? I think it’s safe to assume that most people will at least consider that it’s a possibility they don’t have the crappiest job in the world.

Having said that, I’m here to entertain you with my thoughts on a similar subject. If it blows to be a plumber spending your entire work day with the smell of feces resonating in your air passages, think about how severely appalling it is to be toilet paper. Or a tampon…

Now that I’ve given you that horribly unpleasant image, I can pretty much end the post right here. But…I’m not 🙂

Since it’s November, we’re all giving thanks for various people & things over the course of the entire month. Honestly, this is something we should all be doing all year long, but one month of being actively thankful for the blessings in our lives is infinitely better than no days of thankfulness.

Yeah…tell that to the turkey that you’re praying around at the dinner table.

Turkey’s hate November. They want to delete it from the calendar. We all know what happens to turkey’s this time of year, but have you ever really sat down and thought about it? It must suck to be a turkey. And now, a short story;


A Day In The Life Of A Turkey

Written By Beth Dean


In the open fields under a perfect Georgia sky lives a turkey and his teacup turkey children. They cluck along their merry way, cocking their heads back and forth without a worry or a care in the world. Suddenly, they notice the rapid turning of the leaves from green to multicolored fantasticalness and they realize that it is once again that dreaded time of year. Yes, I mean the Annual Turkey Slaughtering holiday. Father Turkey decides it would be in the best interest of his family not to be headless so they make their way through the middle of the field trying to get to the cover of the woods.


Daddy Turkey keels over and Momma Turkey clucks to the rescue! BANG! Plop

The baby turkey’s rush to the center of the field and I’m not twisted enough to kill off babies (even if they are only turkey’s) in a ridiculous fictional story based on true events so this is the part where we skip several details ahead!

The hunter’s have made it back to their Den of Death and have decapitated and de-feathered the turkey’s. But do they stop there? Of course not. They have reason to believe the turkey’s need to have their insides ripped out and all manner of other things shoved up their…well you get the picture.

Then, the turkey killers throw the poor turkey’s in the oven, baste ’em up real nice & viola! They’ve got a turkey dinner for fifty around which they pray about the beautiful meal they are about to receive. When the word “beautiful” is uttered, they actively participate in not thinking about the moments they had one of their arms elbow deep inside their dinner.

Somewhere in the distance, they hear a lonely gobble. Was it the cry of a turkey baby who’s family was just taken away or was it another relative gobbling about how next year they’re going to be ready for us crazy, twisted turkey haters?

We’ll never know…

The End.


But if being a turkey is bad, how much worse would it be to be a chicken? Turkey’s have it really bad during a single month of the year whereas there is a constant Chicken Holocaust going on all over the world. Picture it.

Here’s this chicken, chillin’ with his homies when all of a sudden they’re all packed into these crates and loaded up on a giant truck. This chicken is thinking “great! A vacation!” Eventually, they feel the truck come to a slow stop and the chicken’s start to get excited until one chicken, a feather smarter than the others, says, “hmm…what’s that smell?” As they’re taken inside, they walk past the portioned remains of their friends and relatives wrapped up in plastic on top of foamy pillows made for the express purpose of soaking up the excess liquid oozing from their dismembered bodies. Across the street, there is an exceptionally well supplied KFC.

And what if you’re a momma chicken? You lay your baby egg and you’re getting all excited to see what your precious chicken is going to look like when someone snatches it out from under you. You chase & you peck, but nothing works. The big mean chicken nazi just grabs you up, throws you on a truck and sends you off to the concentration camp and has your baby for breakfast.

I’m surprised they don’t make anti-depressants for chickens.

Cows. If it sucks to be a turkey or a chicken, it’s gotta suck to be a cow. They get pretty much the same treatment as the chicken and when they’re not being slaughtered, they’re getting yanked on by a dude with rough hands and a tin bucket.

Enough with the animals. What about toilet brushes, plungers, diapers, wipes, deodorant, rash cream, underwear, shoes & socks? They should be featured on an episode of “Dirty Jobs.” Q-Tips don’t have it so bad, but if they could talk, I’d bet they’d disagree with me.

Money; now there’s one you didn’t expect me to say, right? But think about it…money gets traded from one stranger’s hand to another constantly. It passes through sick hands, dirty hands & sometimes even into our kids’ mouths. Ew. It gets put in the strangest places while in some people’s possession. Like strippers…they pick up dollar bills with their butts or shove them in their bras. Maybe since all the money has a man’s picture on it, that’s not so bad for them, but what happens when they go into the back pocket of the guy who has really bad gas? Or the front pocket of the guy whose pants have a very strategically placed hole in them? It gets dropped on the ground, stepped on, ripped, folded up like a contortionist, written on, sat on, or forgotten in the bottom of a purse where it’s only purpose is to jingle like Christmas music until its owner finds a bucket, a clear donation box that looks like a zoo for money or a cold, dark machine to drop it into.

Nails. Getting beat on all day? Hello! That has to suck!

Fingernails. They get chewed on, ripped off, covered up & suffocated by acrylic imitations & fingernail polish. They’re also used for scratching….I don’t really need to elaborate on that, do I?

Feet & legs have a hard job. It’s not necessarily dirty, but think about how essential they are to our very lives. They do so much work for us. They literally carry all of our weight around. May I not be the first to say that it is a blessing to have feet.

Razors shave hair. All kinds of hair. Ew.

Speaking of razors – what about the stuff they use for waxing? It doesn’t get to get washed off like a razor. It gets to have the hairy nastiness stuck to it forever and immediately goes to live in the trash.

Sheets have it pretty hard, too. They get laid on, slept on, drooled on, peed on, pooped on, regurgitated on, stained with various bits of nastiness, thrown in a giant tub of scalding hot water that swishes them around and tangles them up before getting tossed into another contraption that serves as a means to wring ’em out and dry ’em off before they go immediately back to being laid on, slept on, drooled on, peed on, pooped on, regurgitated on & stained with various bits of nastiness.

I could go on & on, but I’m sure that by now my point has been made thoroughly, painfully & (hopefully) humorously clear.


While I wouldn’t want to BE any of these things, I am exceedingly grateful that they exist. To the inventors of all these disgusting & awesome whatchamacallits; Thank you for making it so that I don’t have to stick my hand in a toilet to unclog it, kill a chicken to have crispy fried goodness, stuff a turkey & risk disturbing visuals just to eat Thanksgiving dinner, or pluck my leg hairs one by one…among many other things. Most people say how thankful they are for families, friends, jobs, ect. and while I’m thankful for those, too, I think that toilet paper deserves some serious kudos. My mom would agree, but that’s a story for a different day.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!





2 thoughts on “Sucks To Be You

  1. Okay so you have probably ruined me from eating another animal again! lol… Well You make interesting points with everything! Very funny if I must say! Keep writing your blogs because they are very humerous! Love you sis!

  2. I actually do get very depressed about Thanksgiving BECAUSE of all the turkey slaughtering, but I never really thought about chickens and how bad they have it. Now I will be depressed all year, thanks Beth! heehee

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