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Owen, Prince Wednesday

By M Davies   /     Aug 02, 2018  /     30 days of truth, Medical Issues, Mommyhood, The WTF File  /     0 Comment

Yesterday was my son’s 12th birthday. I get confused sometimes about his age because if you’re a frequent blog reader, you’d know my kids are 20 months (TO THE DAY) apart. This the part of the year when Gabby and Owen are only one year apart in theory. The reason I wanted to talk about Owen today was because he almost didn’t exist.

That’s right folks, when my lovely ex-husband (damn it feels good to say that) and I discussed my pregnancy his first suggestion was the “A” word. I am pro-choice through and through and would never consider the “A” word as an option. I/him made the baby together, its an “us,” and there’s no way in hell I was letting any piece of me die inside of me. I guess you could consider me selfish.

With all of the other financial issues his birth would complicate, I stuck by my baby boy. I followed the doctors and nurses orders to a T. I was there for every appointment up until and including the 2006 Ivan flood scare.

After Owen was born and taken home, I learned that my MIL (“the General” or so she thinks) was upset that I didn’t immediately allow her to hold him the hospital. What people don’t understand is how sick I was after the birth. I had to have 3 blood transfusions. The room was spinning and I felt like ralphing my guts up. Every time a new visitor stopped by, they automatically picked up the baby without asking. I don’t understand why his mother thinks she needed an invite, pick up the kid, FFS. What are we, 5 years old playing “Mother May I?” She further got pissed that we didn’t automatically invite her over to gush over Owen. Um hi, my insides were just ripped open two days ago? Remember? Since we lived in a split level home, bathroom trips were either upstairs or downstairs (pick your poison) both equally painful to climb. And then you have this bitch who wants to come over for show and tell when we still have a messy house, Gabby the precarious toddler, and a lawn that needs cut.

Ummmm no.

I call the shots from now on, Grandma.

We setup a date and time when she and everyone else from Rich’s family could visit which would be least invasive.

Here’s what he looked like as a gummy fish swimming in my womb.

Here’s what he looks like today.

Every time I look at this face, I am reminded of what might have been if I had listened to my dumbass ex-husband’s words of encouragement.

“Get an abortion”

I’d be sitting here an empty shell of a human. Although, I feel like it anyway because I missed his awards ceremony as well as his birthday due to King Dickhead.

I chose life and will continue to do so every time.

Thank heaven for little boys.

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Free Film Was Brittle

By M Davies   /     Jul 30, 2018  /     Mommyhood, Pittsburgh, TV Rants  /     0 Comment

This story is a bit emotional as I write it out. The details are going to be left off my blog for the most part because I am aware now that both of my children read my blog.

I worked for WQED for 9 months. I gave up my life and job to work for the television station to which Fred Rogers had his start…because I believed so strongly in his mission to help children. Much like Miss Judy for WNEP. WQED and KDKA are connected to the same union (IATSE local 820) to which I am a member. I gave up an opportunity to work for CBS and WPXI to come home to Northeast PA for my children. Now that I’m being blocked from seeing my children, having access to my clothing, and my blocked from my house in general, I AM A BIT UPSET.

I mic’d Mister McFeeley and met Joanne Rogers (his wife). She’s lovely, however, I won’t be if I’m not allowed to get my clothes and mail before I start my new job. I won’t drop the mic. I am placing it down politely. I don’t do that to good equipment.

Let’s explore the garden of my mind…..

Mister Rogers has been playing on my mind a lot lately. I went to see the documentary at the Pittsburgh Mills mall and both laughed and cried. Mister Rogers was a true American Hero and not all heroes wear capes.

PBS was under the threat of losing its funding through the CPB under the Nixon administration. Fred went to Capital Hill to testify in front of John Pastore who wanted to cut funding in favor of the military funding. Thanks to Fred’s testimony, funding was restored to 20 million afterwards. Again, not all heroes wear capes.

Did you know that Fred often portrayed himself as Daniel Striped Tiger and Lady Elaine was based on Fred’s sister? I’m going to guess no.

Fred was a man of the cloth. He was not gay despite rumors otherwise. He was happily married to his wife Joanne for many years. He was accepting of other’s lifestyles though he didn’t necessarily believe in it himself. Officer Clemons was a gay black choir singer that Rogers met at a church. Later on, Fred had to remove Clemons from the show as sponsors were threatening to cut funding. 5/9/69 was the episode where Officer Clemons and Fred dipped into the wading pool together.

Fred “religiously” swam laps every morning. His weight was always 143 pounds. This was a symbolic number. Here’s why:

(Apologies for the incorrect oriented jpg, my WordPress installation has decided to be wonky today and image uploads are not working)


Mister Rogers used to do “theme” weeks in the 1980s. He covered superheroes, death and divorce. Ironically, I just recently purchased the book about divorce.


Fred learned that a lot of kids were unknowingly trying to commit suicide by “flying” off their decks, porches or windows pretending to be superheroes. Mister Rogers spoke to the children that explained superheroes are not real, the real heroes are first responders.

Some of my personal favorite episodes featured the Flying Zoocheni Brothers – 3 of which I had the privilege of working with at QED. I can’t imagine some of the outtakes that exist in archives, but the band of misfits whom I love. The Zoochenis also play a big part of WQED’s fundraising. Chris Cook collects recipes from viewers and then creates a cookbook. The funding collected from the cookbooks goes toward the public television initiative.

Mister Rogers treated every child as if they were special. In this day and age most parents assume millenials are entitled or have an entitlist personality. Its not true. Special does not equal entitlement. Special people do not do anything sensational for people to love them. Special people can abound and share love in many different ways. Fred Rogers’ mother made him every cardigan he wore on the show. That’s one way of showing love, I suppose. Additionally, people accused Mister Rogers of being gay, and a perv, and a sniper in Vietnam. None of this is true. Don’t believe everything that you read! Snopes is your friend. If you don’t like it or believe what you are reading there’s one solution.




Or turn it on and be greeted to the most lovely kindness imaginable.

Mister Rogers had a fish tank with real fish in it that he fed on every episode. Once a young viewer wrote a letter that he was afraid the fish would die because he never mentioned them. This was before the advent of closed captioning and SAP. The young boy was hearing impaired. THIS IS WHY I GET SO ANAL RETENTIVE ABOUT CLOSED CAPTIONING. Period. Eventually one of the fish did die. Mister Rogers coordinated with cellist Yo Yo Ma to create a special song for the fish dying. This comes into play later when Mister Rogers was himself dying of cancer — Yo Yo Ma played the dying fish song he had previously written over the phone. He peacefully died with his hopes intact after 9/11 took such a toll on his mental health.

Speaking of 9/11, Fred made some promos for the station on 10/23/01. He talked about the repairs of creation, finding joy and light and of course, being a good neighbor.

Fred was picked on a lot as a child. He was called “Fat Freddy.” Accept and expect mistakes. They happen as long as you learn from them. Think of them in the way curious Daniel Tiger would.

Mister Rogers often invited guests on the show to demonstrate he was “with” the times. He invited children to show him what rap was and how to moonwalk. He wanted to grow alongside his audience. Eddie Murphy was a comedian who notoriously spoofed Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood on SNL. It didn’t bother Fred. The two met and shook hands. Fred would only get upset was if “spoofs” were exploiting children for personal gain.

Mister Rogers went into repeats on 2/20/1976 in favor of an adult talkshow “Old Friends, New Friends”. The concept bombed.

Everyone longs to be loved and that that he or she be capable of loving. We all could do a little better to interact in the nature of Mister Rogers. When you face a challenge or adversity ask yourself “What would Fred Rogers do?”


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240 Involuntary Hours in the Psych Ward – a journal (part 3)

By M Davies   /     Jun 26, 2018  /     30 Day @Neilbytes Blogging Challenge, 30 days of truth, Annoyances, Blogging, Community Service, Family, Into the Void, Medical Issues, Misc/Crap, Mommyhood, NEPA, Quotes, Rejection, The WTF File, TV Rants, Uncategorized, Wacky PA Weather  /     0 Comment

This is a continuation of the journal that I kept while I was involuntarily held in a mental hospital on a 302 and later a 303. If you’d like to read the first part of the journey to get the hell out of the hospital, check out part 1, located here and part 2 located here. This is the third and final part in the series.

Sun. 6/17/18 8pm

Dee came to visit me today. That visiting hour passed rather quickly. I was rather relieved that my Mother didn’t come to see me. She sometimes gets on my last nerve even though I know she means well. Harold was attending a book reading and my Mom/Dad/Russell all went for pizza for Father’s Day.

Some good news though, I am leaving tomorrow. Hopefully by 1pm, I’ll be out of here. I can’t wait to shower and get a pedicure and shave. REDACTED NAME leaves Tuesday! Yay! Good for him! Maybe our paths will cross sooner rather than later *wink wink nudge nudge*. From my ride home, I will pick up my car and clothes and laptop from Swa Va. I have my Fiat ready to go to my Mom’s then Tuesday I meet with my lawyer to start divorce proceedings. Then I sail back to Sax for a few days to collect some belongings and pay my $10 library fine.

Oopsie woopsie!

My goal is to finish this book before I leave tomorrow – 20 pages left. What a goal! Let’s hope it comes true!


Michelle “HD”


Blank Space – Write your Name

T. Swift

Some quotes and shit:

  • “You are wonderful”
  • “Anything is possible”
  • “Don’t forget that you’re human. It’s ok to have a meltdown. Just don’t unpack and live there. Cry it out and then refocus on where you’re headed.”
  • *Did you know — in the average lifetime, a person will walk the equivalent of 5 times around the equator
  • *Did you know — in an average lifetime, you will swallow 5 spiders, but why stop there, TREAT YOURSELF
  • Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time — Thomas Alva Edison
  • When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.  — Henry Ford
  • You are enough…you are stronger than you think you are — Me
  • “Whiners go home early” – Tim Dahlberg (it was a headline in the TL that made me laugh out loud)

Messages on Graduation Caps & Gowns in the Newspaper:

  • Do beautiful things with your beautiful life
  • The best is yet to come
  • Bloom where you are planted
  • Expect something incredible
  • Already forgot everything
  • Freedom

Mon. 6/18 5am

Weather: Partly Sunny, Hot/Humid, Passing showers later

Hi: 86-93

Low: 64


I’m coming home! Lots of stuff to do to get myself back on the grid, but I am not worried at all. I feel energized!

REDACTED NAME seems happy that I get to leave today for some reason…

I wonder why…

Such a sweet boy, love him to death.

Reminds me of that song by Iggy Azalea – Black Widow. That’s probably a poor comparison. But it’s like every song I hear suddenly triggers my memory of something that we’ve talked about or have done in our personal lives. Is that weird? Probably, but no one said I was normal ever. I heard Journey playing in the halls yesterday as we did laps and that song also reminds me of him. He keeps saying he never wants his heart broken again – I won’t – because mutually, I don’t want my heart broken either.

There needs to be trust and open communication by both parties for this to work. I think that’s why both of our marriages are or have failed in the first place. I’m willing to give love another shot. It terrifies me, but in a good way? Which probably makes no sense.

I usually trust no one at first. They have to earn my respect and trust.

My friend Steve told me that’s no way to live life. Trust everyone until they give you a reason NOT to trust them. That’s easier said than done when you’ve been fucked over as many times as I have. All I can do is try.

11 pages to go. We’re in the home stretch. More later…



Mon. 6/17/18 6am

I though more about past relationships and other than CJ and George (RIP), I’ve been fucked over in every relationship that I’ve ever been in. I have no reason to be nasty to anyone else. I have enough hurt for 2 people.

Note: My pencil is sharpened now, LOL. Still no pen.

Anyway, I was catfished, cheated on, abused, dumped the day after my Grandmother died, and head games galore. Lots of painful memories that I don’t wish to recreate EVER. I don’t want to do it and I don’t want it done to me. Period.

I am ready to go (in the words of Republica)


*(drawing of the 16 logo and lyrics to the open)*

*1234 Feist Lyrics Collage*

Mon. 6/18/18 11:45am




Things I missed and am grateful for:

  • My family
  • My phone
  • My concealer
  • Ulta
  • Netflix/Hulu/Streaming
  • My Friends
  • My Car
  • Freedom
  • Happiness
  • Joy
  • Love
  • Freshly Cut Grass
  • Perfume
  • My Flat Iron
  • Real Food
  • Beer
  • Shaving My Legs/Arm Pits
  • Pedicures
  • Manicures
  • Sunrises & Sunsets
  • My MUSIC
  • Sushi


My husband put me here because afraid of me, but then told my doctor that he wasn’t afraid of me. I lost ten precious days with my children because of this. I, however, met an amazing guy who helped me cope with “the looney bin.” That says a mouthful, doesn’t it?

Pretty soon, I will have my life back in order and I cannot wait.

This experience has been an important one. I feel strong when I was weak. I feel weak where I was strong. Call it yin and yang.

I am finally at peace and I have joy in my heart. I WILL be okay. I cannot wait to go back on the grid.


This is my ending, however god (or whatever supreme being you believe in) doesn’t close a door without opening a window.

The window is open and I can feel the breeze, smell the freshly cut grass and feel the warmth. The future is promising. I can’t wait!

Four ending thoughts:

  1. (And I’ve said this before) Don’t fuck with an #AMNewser. Not now. Not ever.
  2. You can’t out soprano a soprano.
  3. Stitches get snitches.



(or is it …. ?)

Thanks for listening!

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240 Involuntary Hours in the Psych Ward – a journal (part 2)

By M Davies   /     Jun 25, 2018  /     30 Day @Neilbytes Blogging Challenge, 30 days of truth, Annoyances, Blogging, Community Service, Family, Into the Void, Medical Issues, Misc/Crap, Mommyhood, NEPA, Quotes, Rejection, The WTF File, TV Rants, Uncategorized, Wacky PA Weather  /     0 Comment

This is a continuation of the journal that I kept while I was involuntarily held in a mental hospital on a 302 and later a 303. If you’d like to read the first part of the journey to get the hell out of the hospital, check out part 1, located here.

6/16/18 2pm

The dayshift nurses are a bunch of Bolsheviks. In my patient rights it specifically states that I am able to conduct my affairs while I’m in here. All of my business is on my phone, which I’m not allowed to have — looks like I’m never ever getting out, all thanks to my darling of a husband, isn’t he sweet? 302ing me so that I missed the following:

  1. My son’s graduation
  2. Both kids last day of school
  3. Our wedding anniversary
  4. Father’s Day

Lovely man which comes from an equally lovely family. And when I say lovely I mean DICKHOLES.

I pae these hallways so much that I may have kittens (or at least that’s likely what the nurses think).

He’s royally fucking up my life and we need to go our separate ways. I’m over the bullshit and drama with his family. OVER IT.

I called my atty again.

LETTUCE PREY (pun intended) for a miracle or some divine intervention from above.

I think I scared away poor (REDACTED NAME) away. I suck, blah, whatever. I’m a shit person who doesn’t deserve anything good apparently. I hope he doesn’t hate me.

Time moves so slow in this place it’s like 1 year is 1 day. Thank god my mother brought me a watch. Now if I could just get my glasses I’ll be able to read up close.

I really hope some of my friends come today. 5 days of Mom is too much.

Signing off for now,


6/16/18 4pm

I wonder if someday I will be telling my grandchildren about the great tornado of 2018 like how my grandparents told me about hurricane agnes’ flood. I really hope to have grandchildren some day. It’s nice to find an audience that’s captive which is why I find blogging so therapeutic…

Maybe one day they’ll read about my entire journey and document it for history books. Haha, yeah right, but at least it’s an accurate representation of my life until now.

<plans about leaving hospital>

Plan A Modified

Look for Apt, TGIFridays

Plan B Modified

Take Uber to Swa Va, get car and possessions civilly – head to Saxonburg, move possessions by August 1 back to Blakeslee while apartment searching, get security deposit back $660 and use for new deposit. Look in HUGHESVILLE. Dad and I will get stuff from Saxonburg.


  • Drawer Set
  • Some clothes, toiletries, shoes
  • Microwave
  • Table/Chairs
  • Pots/Pans/Dishes/Cubs/Crockpot
  • Some food (toss)
  • Bed
  • Bookshelf w/ books
  • Hangers
  • 3 lamps
  • Desk
  • Love Seat
  • Chair
  • TV/Roku
  • TV Stand (trash)
  • Coffee Maker
  • DVD Player
  • Tapestry
  • Pictures
  • Wreath
  • Door Mats
  • Toaster
  • Foreman Grill
  • Bakers Rack
  • End Tables
  • Coffee table

*Make a weird PA bucket list*

Blog post idea: Hryvniak Again, origin, blah blah blah currency, family I found through Facebook

WOW upside down is MOM.


6/16/18 11pm

When he’s around my whole body can feel it. It’s hard to explain. I just can sense his presence. It’s exciting. It gives me goosebumps and chills all at once. I am falling fast and it’s scary. Exciting scary.

It looks like I’m here for another day or two then I will activate either Plan A or Plan B depending on the circumstance.

Bottom line, this will be a clean break. It has to be for the kids sake and for my sanity. Successful families grow together and not apart. I’ve grown a lot since meeting him at age 19. He has not. He’s stubborn and refuses to grow and accept that I’ve grown as a person. He talks at me rather than to me – if that at all makes sense. I need a partner, someone who will listen as well as communicates.

Look, I know I’m no angel, but I deserve to be treated better. That much, I know.

For years, I’ve referred to our marriage as oil and water (or is it oil and vinegar?) Either way – we don’t mix well together. These last two months back home have been awful with him. It’s like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

Putting the 302 on me was the lowest of the low things he could do. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He behaves just like his assinine family. I guess this is what you’d call the perverbial straw on the camel’s back. I’M DONE WITH HIS SHIT!

Here’s to new beginnings. Change to me is terrifying, but necessary for growth.

So let it be written…

So let it be done…

Signing off for now,

-Michelle “HAITCH” Dee

Visitors to Date: Harold, Mom, Dee, Dad, Cheri, Heather

Sun. 6/17/18 3am

(Father’s Day)

Still stuck in “the pen” without a pen. It’s Father’s Day and I hope R— enjoys spending it alone with his two children. I’m about 9/10 that he will get nothing from either of them. They won’t remember and if/when they do it will be too late, he’ll already be pissed.

I am awake and ready to conquer the day.

It’s times like these I’m reminded of that Rob Thomas/Matchbox 20 song “3AM”

“It’s three am, I must be lonely”

My friend Matt told me that Rob Thomas wrote this song about his sick mother. My kids are probably thinking the same thing about me. I don’t want to scare them unecessarily.

“Yeah everything is fine, honey, your Daddy put Mommy in a psych ward.”

I wouldn’t imagine that would go over well especially since both of them saw my stomach staples (not on purpose). Someday I will let them know the whole story, maybe even let them read this book.

When Cheri visited yesterday, she brought me a new book in case I fill this one. She’s so nice. I want to send her a thank you card. I’ll have to wait until the phones open up again to call and get it.

I can’t wait for NAME REDACTED to wake up. Miss him. My partner in crime.


It’s so sad when you have to make that statement every time you make a sick joke in here. I’m sarcastic and love dark comedy a lot, so I say that about 3 bazillion times a day.

My suture area is super duper itchy. I’m trying desperately not to scratch it, but GAHHHHH!

I’ll quietly watch the news on 16 at 5am and think about the fun times we had at the station over the years. I miss that place a lot.

Blahhhhh whatever.

Signing off.



PS – I miss my hummingbird and robin families.

6/17/18 5am

Bienvenidos a mi vida loca! Ole!

Weird questions I have —

  • How do you throw away a garbage can?
  • Why am I here?
  • Does the butterfly theory exist?
  • Could I start a successful vlog?
  • Who cares why the chicken crossed the road?
  • Can you pickle pickles?
  • How deep is your love?
  • I wonder how many divorces there are in Virginia (the state for lovers).

Weather for Father’s Day

Hi: 80-91

Low: 50

Hazy, Hot, Humid, Sun and a possible storm later on.

List of Noreenisms (yes, I even miss Noreen today!):

  • It is a good morning, Andy!
  • Hi Andy, good morning everyone.
  • Water your elderly (kidding, she never said this)
  • I’m sorry, Honey
  • Chiggers
  • Acrossst
  • Shades of Gray
  • Milky White Appearance
  • Peeks and Breaks
  • Today Offers…..(Happiness, hopefully)


Remind me to tell Colleen about the Iron Pigs Sandlot Movie Tribute. Sun, July 1st in Allentown!

Fiat situation: What to do? Keep? Sell?

Don’t forget Macklemore tickets! Something to look forward to – July 21 in Hershey!

Check on Uhaul costs and return policy

6/17 (no time listed)

I miss my podcasts as well. Damnit.

  • Jenna & Julien
  • Babysitters Club Club
  • AMR
  • Crime One (I forget the name)

I also miss my fave YouTubers.

  • RLM
  • Pburgh Dad
  • Jenna
  • Julien
  • Pressure Luck
  • Cooking w/ Jack
  • Noreen’s Kitchen
  • Freaking Reviews
  • Binging with Babish
  • Chef John
  • Zach Morris is Trash
  • Carin’s Corner

LOL – the power blipped here and now the Circus Electric traffic camera channels all say “NO VCR” – LOLOLOLOLOL. What the ever loving hell?

For Mother’s Day, I got a dildo from R—. For Father’s Day, I got put in a psych ward. LOVELY!

*label from bottle of Nestle Pure Life water*

Purified water…from Allentown public water…..OK THEN?

More blog post ideas: Words my husband doesn’t know, aunt’s house dream Thunder by Imagine Dragons was in the basement, I can name that tune in 5 notes.

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240 Involuntary Hours in the Psych Ward – a journal (part 1)

By M Davies   /     Jun 23, 2018  /     30 Day @Neilbytes Blogging Challenge, 30 days of truth, Annoyances, Blogging, Community Service, Family, Into the Void, Medical Issues, Misc/Crap, Mommyhood, NEPA, Pittsburgh, Quotes, Rejection, The WTF File, TV Rants, Uncategorized, Wacky PA Weather  /     2 Comments


(My 14th Wedding Anniversary)

Morse code is not the same as pulse code and 5 million other things I learned at the phone company by Michelle Ann Hryvniak.

<research facts go here>

(I’ll come back to those later on when I’m able to use my telephone)

Telco in a box diagram drawing. Look at me. I should have been in Tech Staff.

6/12/18 – 6am

I’m supposed to have a job interview in 2 days, but I’m not allowed to go. I also have a PFA meeting.

I’m never getting out. Ever. It’s impossible, much like the Widespread Panic Song.

I have so much to do this week. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish it from inside of these 4 walls.


6/12/18 – 9am

I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Pittsburgh. It’s such a great city with spunk. I miss the 28 traffic and the friendly sweet people – some of the nicest I’ve ever met in my whole life. I love the yinzer accent too…I am now able to spot it a mile away. I miss sleeping in my own bed. I miss Saxonburg which I firmly believe is Sweet Valley’s sister city/town/borough.

<reasons why go here>

  • 18656 vs. 16056 (fact numero uno)
  • History of Mihalishin Road aka Andy’s Road aka Linden Lane
  • History of Sweet Valley via curmudgeon guy (note to self: find that letter and poem about Will Sill and write about that in a later post)

6/12/18 – no time listed

My Journey – My Goals

My immediate goal is to complete my divorce and I will with the help of one of my attorneys.

Then I will finally start my dream job on 7/9 at AccuWeather. I am a self-proclaimed weather dork since birth and have watched the Weather Channel since birth. I have watched the Weather Channel almost exclusively. I collect books about weather and have an extensive collection. I have written several blog posts on the topic. It was my original career goal to become a meteorologist. Maybe if I can manage this class and overcome my social anxiety and finish school I can actually achieve my dream. This dream has been buried inside of me since a teenager – it’s time to act on it.

I’m pretty enough

I’m smart enough

and gosh darnit



Wed, 6/13/18 – 6am

(2 months since I left WQED)


thryv (thrive)

Write the story about the wedding dress fiasco with the in-laws. Explain how I was inducted into the DUVCW officially, but that it was also time change weekend and how the crazy in-laws (or as a former co-worker used to refer to them as…”outlaws”) kicked me out of the wedding and the family all because they couldn’t communicate when the dress fitting was for me – A FUCKING SHIFT WORKER.

Write a blog post about almost dying on Memorial Day

Did you know…

Studies have suggested that gifted people (much like my daughter which I birthed) often have bad handwriting because their brains are working faster than their hands. XD XD LAWLS <3

“If you want to be happy, you have to be happy on purpose. When you wake up, you can’t just wait to see what kind of day you’ll have. You have to decide what kind of day you’ll have.”

6/13/18 – 1pm

Suggested topics for blog posts: What spending 5 days in a nut house has done to me, Lee Park house origin

Reminder to call about my IATSE 820 hiatus status

A poem:



Beginning Again


Never cease to fly if held down

A different view

It comes back around again

Words I never told you

Walking free

You showed me what needed to be shown

Beyond myself

I will never see the world the same way

Beauty stands before you

The path I have chose

There’s one memory of us

We are all that we are

What I have I become?

When I fall, I fly

What they see

This can’t be the end

Your Soul is in your eyes

I will not surrender

Let the light shine in the darkest of nights

All these shapes and colors are so it doesn’t hurt so badly

A magic moment


Philly sucks!

Thurs, 6/14/18 6am

Today was supposed to be my appointment to leave to get my sutures out at Geisinger. I am almost certain that I won’t be able to. I have to do in this Tennessee Redneck owned hospitaly where many people have access to my medical records. My doctor tried to get a hold of my husband twice for counseling.


What a shock.

Just kidding.

I really just want them out because they are so uncomfortable. Not to mention, I have to run to the bathroom literally every five minutes and everyone here thinks I’m an actual nut job.


I’m a survivor. I almost died. I was in the ICU for 3 days and the first conscious memory I had was ripping the breathing tube out of my face. The last thing I remember before that was my Ambulance ride and being rushed to emergency surgery.

Thurs. 6/14/18 7am



I feel like a brand new person.

Thank you, Jesus!

Thurs. 6/14/18 7:15am


Please Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

“Can’t spell cheapskates without CHS”

*revised A-List*

Thurs. 6/14/18 10am

I met this really great guy in here. One that actually listens and respects me. It’s amazing that such a person could exist. After 15 years of an abusive marriage, I am finally calling it quits. I cannot be treated like a piece of dirt any longer. This has been a long time coming. We’ve grown apart mentally, physically and etc. (redacted 2 sentences)

Thurs. 6/14/18 8pm

I slept most of the afternoon and it was lovely. I was woken up by my attorney with good news (hopefully). My 401k, which I sold off, was distributed and let the games begin. I will be moving back home (TEMPORARILY) to Blakeslee and then headed to Saxonburg to get my stuff.

*now writing in pen vs. pencil*

He drained the bank account. On what is anyone’s guess. I think I have a pretty good idea.

He’s running scared now, he won’t return any of my belongings, or at least the correct ones. Not very smart.

I want my laptop and my tablet back – those will be coming home with me next. As well as my car, and of course, my children. Posession is 9/10 of the law, so I plan on fighting this fight well up to the supreme court. And I have SEVERAL character witnesses willing to testify on my behalf.

But anyway….focusing on the positive so that I can get the hell out of here.

I’m dreaming of sushi, soup, and steak…..hmmmm….maybe hibachi on my first meal out of here. Please and thank you

<3 Michelle

PS- Remember to PayPal atty

Fri. 6/15/18 4am

I had a pen that was given to me by one of the nurses taken away from one of the nurses that I was given to it from.

I am a danger to myself with a pen? Ok. What am I going to do? Draw on myself? Good gravy.


Peace Out,


“This is one of life’s little potholes”


Why am I me? All of the signs were there to leave R—. I just never could find the courage. Somehow I found my balls and they were right here all along — on my G-D chest. This shit with the Davies family pisses me off. They are like a cult. Either it’s their way or the highway (aka thrown out of the family). I’ve been thrown out of the family 3 times so far. Third time is the charm. If I ever to talk to those people again, it will be too soon.




I feel lost when he’s not here and calm when he is here. That’s a start.

Cant wait to get out and explore it more.

Thaaaaaaat’s all folks

<3 Michelle


My grandmother always says “things will be better before you get married”


they actually get worse

(On Monday)



-Remember how to research to legally change name and cost

-Remember to talk to IATSE guy

-Book title idea: “Dodging the Potholes of my Mind”

Fri. 6/15 (no time)

Wherein Michelle Davies calls the KDKA control room by mistake, a blog post. As I was attempting to pay up my union dues for IATSE 820 local REPRESENT, I was given 3 different phone numbers for the leader. The first one was an incorrect phone number. The second one was for THE KDKA CONTROL ROOM. Finally, the third number worked. I will be continuing my membership on a hiatus status….just in case. One less thing to worry about I suppose

Blog post idea: Patch town names

Book title idea: “Tales from Adult IV, NOT! Floor 2”

Sat. 6/16 (no time)


Our story begins now.

Turning over a new leave

Have a wonderful day beautiful.

Thank you. <3


I finally read my 302 paperwork.

[He’s not here and I miss him so much. It hurts my heart so much. I miss him]

I’m greatful to be alive today! Considering that I almost died on 5/31.

It’s the little things.

It seems wrong to be attached so earlier on…

…but I cannot help myself




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PMS Pickles

By M Davies   /     Mar 19, 2017  /     Mommyhood  /     4 Comments

Parenting has been a challenge as of late with my daughter. It’s really hard coming to terms with having a pre-pubescent/pre-teen on my hands, and one with my attitude to boot. It’s like dealing with a shorter smarter-assed (is that a word?) version of myself. Allow me to lay these three short stories on you so that can see where I am coming from. And as you read, just imagine, from afar my mother is sitting back and smirking knowing that she’s finally gotten her revenge on me.


Story 1:

I had off from work on March 8th because I was managing an assembly at Owen’s school. My husband happened to travel to Allentown for work that day. Owen had stayed home sick from school because he was running a fever. I left the house for an hour to head to Ross. When I got back home, it was around dismissal time. Owen and I waited for Gabby, but she was late. We thought that maybe her bus had some trouble, but after a short while, I started to panic. I texted my husband and asked if he had signed any permission slips for her to go anywhere, or if he knew of any trips she may have been going on. He didn’t respond. I tried to call the school, but no one was answering. Then I called the transportation department at the school – no answer. At this point, I was ready to call out the FBI, National Guard, have helicopters swooping with search lights and an amber alert called. I tried to remain as calm as humanly possible which wasn’t going well. I flew over to the school and flagged down the first adult I could find in the building (which was essentially a ghost town except for some kind sports practice going on inside of the gym). I really don’t even remember what kind of sport was being practiced, that is how upset I was at the time. The coach somehow managed to determine that my daughter was one of the children who participated in the Science Olympiad which was being held at Penn State Wilkes-Barre. He then called the instructor that was over at the school with the kids and confirmed that Gabby was indeed there. My heart attack turned into rage. I drove over to PSU WB where I found my daughter sitting in the bleachers with the rest of her class.

I mean, what’s my angle here for this parenting disaster? Do I scream at her in front of her friends for making me have a damn near panic attack? Do I ground her for the rest of her life and turn her off from participating in any extra-curricular activities? Do I just hug her and be grateful she’s somewhere safe? How do I handle this?

And to make matters worse (for me, not her) she won a damn medal! I am proud of her, yet SEETHING with rage.

She came in 4th place for one of the activities they participated in – I believe it had something to do with a hoverboard or hovercraft.

And the little shit was on TV for a few seconds.

I had a discussion with her teacher after I managed to find her in the crowd. Gabby was supposed to bring home a paper giving us all of the details of what was happening the day of this event (what to wear, when to be picked up, how much money to bring for lunch, etc) but, she never brought it home to show us, so neither my husband or I had any idea it was going on. I was perfectly fine with her participating, it was just a shitty way of finding out. It would have been nice to actually see her at the awards ceremony! Fricking kid.


Story 2:

We were just recovering from the fallout of story number 1, when THIS happened: My daughter decided to crawl out of her window.  Let me set up the story for you first before I tell you WHY she decided to do this. The Friday after story number 1 happened, 3/10, we got 6″ of snow. School canceled classes and both kids were home for the day. I was off and my husband was working from home. Owen decided to hang out in the basement and play video games, Rich was also working in the basement, I was watching TV in the living room and Gabby was in her room most of the day drawing and playing on her tablet. At some point, she decided that she wanted to go outside and play in the snow….which is fine. Except, rather than going through the people sized hole in the house (otherwise known as a door), she decided she wanted to go through the cubby sized hole in the house (otherwise known as the window in her bedroom). I am not sure the logic of leading up to this decision. She told me that she didn’t think we’d allow her to go out and play, so she took it upon herself to crawl out of her window. Her cunning plan had one huge flaw. She underestimated the height of the window from the ground and couldn’t get back inside. Another flaw: Instead of walking up to the people sized hole in the house and knocking on the door to be let back in the house, she decides to carry a huge outdoor chair across the yard and places it up against the side of the house and uses it as a ladder to crawl back inside. Now mind you, this all happened while she was wearing no coat or shoes and in broad daylight. I can only imagine what my neighbors were thinking.

And to top it off, rather than tell your parent about what stupidity you just have gotten yourself into face-to-face, you send it via text message, because of course.

I used to call her Houdini because she would manage to find a way to take off her poopie diapers without taking off her footie pajamas in her crib. It seems she’s graduated into houdining out of houses.  Ugh. I could literally just kill her. Not to mention that we don’t have health insurance for two months because of Rich changing jobs. Now is not the time to start working on scaling the facades of houses, kid.


Story 3:

This one is more of a icky girl problem thing and I’m sorry in advance of the TMI nature of the topic. BUT ANYWAY, last year, Gabby got a visit from the monthly crimson fairy for the first time. Now even at my age – 36 – I still hate and have issues with my monthly visitor. You’d think that over the years, handling it would become easier or second nature. YEAH NOT SO MUCH. I am barely able to deal with my menses, now I have a mini me walking around that I have to deal with as well. Needless to say, it hasn’t been a fun year for me.

Ooooh and does she get ever so moody every month. Slamming doors, back talking, correcting grammar, and fighting her brother. Although I can’t tell if it’s the PMS, the teenagerhood onset or the fact that SHE HAS ALWAYS BEEN THIS WAY SINCE SHE COULD TALK. But, I digress….

I noticed recently that we are going through jars of pickles like water. I usually buy the large jar of mini gherkins by Mt. Olive from the supermarket. Before kids, we could have that jar of pickles for weeks before finally killing it. Now, it’s like we could go through it in 3 days (maybe less). I know we all love the pickles, but really? As an experiment, I bought two of the large jars during a recent supermarket run. That lasted about a week. Finally at dinner one night I asked, where are all of these pickles going? I really wasn’t expecting to get an answer, but the sass queen volunteered that she was eating them all. Owen chimed in and said “YEAH SHE DOES EAT A LOT OF THEM WHEN SHE GETS HOME FROM SCHOOL!” After Rich yelled at her to stop eating so many of them because it would ruin her dinner, she informed us that her friends told her that eating pickles during your time of the month works better than chocolate because you won’t get zits. Who is perpetuating this rumor!? No chocolate!?! Whaaaaaat? I think I laughed so hard that I snorted. Is this something that they read in Seventeen or Cosmo?

Hence the title of this blog entry – PMS Pickles.



At this point, I think the warranty is up on this child and I lost the receipt to return her. I guess I’ll just have to float her up the river like Moses.

This parenting thing is for the birds.

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