He Don’t Give a Watt

I’m back. I know it’s been literally a gazillion years and even a goddamn Star Wars movie has come and gone since I posted my last blog. I became overwhelmed with my side business, house projects, and just the overall “Strug” and vowed to actually work on this blog in 2016. Okay, so it’s been a month into the year and I’m marinading ideas like a big poop just stewing in your guts. One story I was told recently, I just had to share with you, ever so dedicated reader doesn’t even remember who the fuck I am anymore. Well dust your balls off and sit a spell stranger, I have a new tale of my diddy.

My mother told me this tale over the holidays and was shocked I don’t remember any of this.
In the 80s, my dad was not a fan of any thing that took money out of his beer, porn, and tobacco budget. This meant like, food for the children, school clothes, and whatever other unnecessary things came forth.

Apparently there were numerous times when he was frustrated with the power bill, he would take his tools and break into the power meter box on the side of the house. Once he dismantled the lock, he would then turn the meter back several kilowatt hours and re-secure the lock. He did this several times, according to my mother and the power company merely gave him a simple tap on the wrist each time and did not take his ass to jail. He fancied himself smarter than the power company

I should also note, this is the same man that evaded taxes for decades in his business and still carried out his glorious golden years in a roachy trailer, drawing social security and watching Wrestlemania.

Speaking of Wrestlemania, I have some commentary I am working on regarding “Making A Murderer” and how amazing it is that my people are in the limelight. More to come on that topic. Long live the trailer folk!

Diddys Parking Meter

And Then, She Resurfaced Like Herpes (But Less Itchy)

Some of you may have wondered what ever happened to Sheena in 2014, especially when she said she would be updating her blog more regularly and then virtually yelled “PSYCH!” all 1992-style. Well, shit happened. Life, bills, all kinds of crap related to being a grown ass adult that consistently fights back the white trash genetics happened. I did some pretty cool stuff to remove myself further away from the trailer bubble all this year and I’ll share with you what the hell happened while I was not updating my blog and you braided your pubes in anticipation:


January 2014 – Went to Rome, Italy and London, England
Yes, I left the United States and gathered myself some culture. I got to see Big Ben, Windsor Castle, and the Roman Colosseum. No one in my family or extended family has ever left the United States, and has barely left North Carolina, especially after dark. Hell, that’s when the devil shows up for buttsecks.
Anyways, during this trip, my brain exploded from the wonders of the world and how amazing it truly is. I toured the Vatican, rode on a double decker bus, and it was all I dreamed it would be. +10 points for escaping the trailer park. -5 points for stumbling in the Sistine chapel and almost falling onto an entire terrified Asian family. Sorry ya’ll. But then I saw this mullet in Rome:
We call this Gladiator Mullet

Late January 2014 – My grandfather passed
It was a bummer. His standard of living wasn’t great in a nursing home with dementia, but it’s never easy to lose someone. In the south, when someone dies, you get a ton of free amazing food. So in grieving you can satiate your depression with homemade apple pie and banana pudding. I don’t know why obesity is an issue in the South. (Sarcasm)

February 2014 – Started the worst job ever
The less said about this, the better. All you need to know is I used the bus to get there, was harassed daily by every meth head in the south. I ate my emotions, debated walking into oncoming traffic and experienced some pretty bad meltdowns. Luckily a company rescued me and now that’s why I am in the mood to write again. I’m back to being same ole’ G.
May 2014 – September 2014 – Purchased a home
Not a trailer. Hell, not even a double-wide trailer. An actual place constructed of bricks n’ shit. There’s not even a hubcap in the yard. Do you know what I did this week? I bought solar powered lights for the sidewalk. That is fancy shit. The stove has no burners because its flat, none of the windows are cracked, and best of all, there are no abandoned vehicles out front. I learned about taxes and escrows, and learned how to file the paperwork away instead of letting cats piss on them. I mow the grass and remember the yard I grew up in…the beer bottles, paint cans, and dog skeletons scattered everywhere and how embarrassed I was to get off the bus and have people see where I lived. Never in my life thought I’d escape that shit pile lifestyle and be proud of what I had, but I dreamed someday of it happening. Like Justin Bieber said, never say never.

Anyways, I appreciate your patience and minimum shit talking while I packed this crazy year behind me. Now that life has settled, I want to work on getting published and getting my stories heard plus updating this no money makin’ ass blog. I know these tales are so wack, you probably think I’m making them up, but if one little girl can give herself a mullet and still leave the trailer park to see Rome, there’s hope for all of you bastards.
Aight Nah, Gal

Merry White Trash Christmas to You and Yours, Now Let’s Head to K-Mart for Some Layaway

It’s that time of year again, where I coupon and buy one get one free on everything I can to placate my mother and make my aunt feel like someone gives a shit about her existence since her sons aren’t stellar at actually being sons. It’s also the time of year that my sister loosens her sphincter and decides to get wasted listening to Journey’s Greatest Hits and I film it on my phone for blackmail purposes. This October I got laid off from my job (story of my goddamned life) and so I’m literally pulling gifts out of my crimped mullet with the help of coupons and promo codes. The sad part of that is, my gifts will always kick the most ass, even though I am unemployed. And that’s the case this year. You see, I knew my job was going way too awesome, so I started buying shit online back in August. I mean, I was being paid an awesome wage, AND not biting the barrel of a cold pistol at the end of the work day, so in my experience, that always means it won’t last long. Don’t start being all “Oh Sheena, you’re such a pessimist” because it’s called being realistic. Look that shit up in this Dollar Tree dictionary I am putting in your Elvis stocking. Yeh, it was a dollar, that’s how we do.

Anyways, Christmas is bumming me out but I leave for London and Rome in January, so I am whoring my side businesses in hopes to procure extra funds for that. If there’s one thang my pappy taught me, it’s you GOTS to keep hustlin’.

Hey, did you know you can layaway shit again? That was the redneck way back in the 80’s and 90’s. My mom would threaten to put all my layaway-ed clothes for school back when I misbehaved. And judging from the shirts in my school pics, I should have let her. Of course my sister did some layaway-ing when she found that out, and went to the classiest joint of all: K-Mart. K-mart’s empire took a mighty ass tumble somewhere in the early 2000’s, and now it’s about as classy an Insane Clown Posse concert. Regardless, she’s reppin’ the K-mart this year. All I asked for was money for Europe and Keurig K-cups. Ever since I got laid off, I can’t bring my fat ass to pump $6.99 into 12 cups of luxurious coffee.

I’m going to be optimistic though guys. I’ve been working on my book, and unlike this blog, it’s actually becoming a decent read. Although it has come to my attention that this blog has a lot of grammar errors and etc in it, I’d like to politely let you know I don’t actually give a cluck.

I don't give a cluck

I know this blog sucks to heck, but my family hasn’t done anything outrageous recently and I figured I at least needed to spread a little redneck observation into your world for a minute.  I have some good stuff planned in the future for my loyal readers (all 2 of you) so stay tuned and Happy Hollerdays!


Precious memories of our tree brought you by Schlitz Beer and K-Mart.



No, seriously. Let that sweater go BACK TO LAYAWAY.  What the FUCK mom?


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Who the Hell is Sheena?
Sheena is the name my mom gave me when she heard Sheena Easton's "Morning Train" in 1981. My dad could never say it or remember it, so my sister still calls me "Sheiler" because that's what he called me. I write, I sing, I paint, and more importantly, I'm good at making people laugh. This blog was started in hopes to find the twisted readers who would love what I do, and share with others.
Past Blog Posts