black and white photograph of Michelle Grewe with long dark hair that reaches her shoulders wearing a gray sweater that has a V neck, looking up to the right wide eyed and hopeful.

About Michelle

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Mom. Ex Wife. Bacteria Assassin.

"She chose to be king, for that crown had pockets."

Hi. I'm Michelle.

Somewhere underneath the toils of motherhood are the kids. They got to be in there somewhere. I did try looking under the things. They will find me when they are hungry.

Photo of Michelle's head looking up over a stack of colorful Alphabet Magnets.

I’m a published author, hobby photographer & graphic designer, but for the most part, I’m just an artist who likes to make things. 

I also love cats (puppy kisses are awesome, but cats bathe themselves), The Avengers (you have no idea how much I had to rack my brain for something popular I like because for whatever reason, Goethe and Henry David Thoreau are just not trending), juxtaposition of inappropriately contrasting themes, and overanalyzing things like applying the theory of relativity to macroeconomics or turning Schrodinger’s Cat into a religion. 

Glad-Handering Facts About Michelle

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A black and white photo outlined in pink of Michelle Grewe, a white woman in a gray hooded sweater that ties across the top under the neck as if her fashion was trying to mimic the false innocence of Little Red Riding Hood. Reinforcing that look, she is also wearing a silver pendant of Christ. Her dark brown hair sits just below her shoulders, and her wide eyes are looking to the left and at you at the same time like a creepy portrait in a haunted castle from a rejected Scooby Doo episode. Her smile looks like the Cheshire Cat is trying not to smile.

Name: Mom, but you have to scream it like stepping on a tail of a female cat in heat.  

Mafia Name: Don of Death’s Undertow. My fishes sleep with the fishes, and I orchestrate an annual houseplant massacre. Everyone also comes to me for favors, and I can make a shit ton of spaghetti. 

Divorced after 13 years of marriage. Worst one night stand ever.  

Address: The place where the banjos play, just north of The Mothman. 

Favorite Color: Light (all of them) 

Religion: I pray to the Creator: Truth, Love, Forgiveness, Infinity, The Holy Trinity.

Spirit Animal: The Holy Spirit, sometimes in the form of a white lion, but generally He looks like air.  

Horoscope Sign: Libra, the best. But it should be noted that studies fail to reject the null hypothesis when it comes to horoscopes.  

Favorite Drink: Diet Coke

Favorite Grown-Up Drink: I usually ask the bartender to make something up on the fly, something creamy. Be creative. Maybe add coffee to it. 

Political Party: Facebook Ad Preferences thinks I’m a moderate, but it also thinks I’m African American. I don’t support the party system. I support an equilibrium of power between the two parties for the sake of checks and balances to ensure the oppositions have enough power to thwart extremist ideals. I like republicans in power to keep the democrats at bay, and democrats in power to keep the republicans at bay. I’d prefer to have human beings who care about people in power, but that’s not an option and probably won’t be in my lifetime. I’m starting to think America’s best bet is to go back to the monarchy, apologize to the King, see if we can move back in with dad. 

Song that Would Play as I Enter the WWE Ring: Let my Nuts Go by Too Short

Song that Would Play after I win in the WWE Ring: Thunderstruck by AC/DC

Favorite movie genre: I like action movies. My favorite Christmas movie is Die Hard 2, and my favorite romance is Troy. I love epic battle scenes pre-invention of the gun.

Favorite Crazy: Penis Envy

If I were a Greek God, I’d be the God of long naps and awkward situations. 

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Random Advice

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"Falling down is an accident. Staying down is a choice. Taking a nap is making the best of the situation."

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Sometimes you gotta dance just to hear the song.

You cannot kill a fly with bad driving.

The secret to a big ass is really deep fried mozzarella sticks.

Tequila Rose makes a great coffee creamer.

Two wrongs don't make a right but 3 lefts will.

The highway to hell is probably actually Interstate 70.​