An Open Letter to Maz~

Hey girl- what’s up?


Da f*ck were you thinking?

Like literally. How do you not see the symptoms of a man-child when they are staring you dumb in the face? He literally is 25 and funneling beer in his snapchat story. How on Earth did that not scream “hasn’t left his college days behind”?

He was seeing you because he wants to relive those good old days in the basement of the Rugby House. You should’ve seen that coming when he made numerous comments about how he hated those “frat guys” but the guys on his team were his crew and how if he hadn’t fractured his shoulder, he could have gone pro or taken them to nationals.

Come on.

You’re not stupid. Stop acting stupid.

Also, stop dating pretty idiots. Sure, it was fun for a few months, but what lacks substance brings no worth to your life. And those boys lack so much substance.

Get your sh*t together girlfriend,

XO, Maz


An Open Letter to the Boy I’ll Always Love~

Hi, you suck,

You don’t actually. But I like to put you in your place from time to time. It just serves the purpose that I am in charge and have established dominance. I also know that you laughed at that, which is just another reason why I’m in charge of this situation.

You were the first boy that I truly loved outside of a familial tie. And don’t get crazy homie. I ain’t in love with you. I just love you, and yes there’s a difference, even though I’m sure that you’d love to argue that. Just shut it down now, there is a difference.

You’re the boy that I’ll marry when I’m 65, lived a whole life, had kids, became a widow and forgot what it’s like to talk to anyone besides cats. I’ll need company and I can put up with you extendedly. We do have a marriage pact, but I think we’re both way too hot of commodities to not be off the market by 30ish, so I won’t be Julia Roberts and you won’t be Nick Nolte. We won’t sing “I Say A Little Prayer for You”. I also know that you don’t understand that reference AT ALL, which is just one more thing that makes this work. I can tell you all the obscure movie references and you’ll tell me about all of the really great music you’ve been listening to, even if I think it’s sh*t at first.

You were the easiest love letter to write this week, because even though I don’t see you even nearly as often as I wish, I know that you’re always a phone call, text or FaceTime away. I know that if I need you for dumb advice in the middle of the drunken night, you give it to me straight, even though you know I probably will still make a stupid choice anyway. And you don’t judge me in the aftermath.

You are that best friend that time doesn’t erode. We can brush our teeth together and share your roommate’s face wash and still not be sick of each other immeadiatiately, shockingly.

I love you. Plain and simple. No strings attached, you know that I’m here at any single point that you may need me.

I’ll Try My Best, How Much Do I Invest?


To the Guy Who Stood Me Up~

Hello you assh*le,

Remember me? The girl you asked to meet you at 8 for a drink and then never showed up? Twice?

That’s right, not once but twice you stood me up. No text, no call, nothing. On Sunday I was annoyed and my feelings were hurt, but then on Monday morning I woke up with a text message explanation and an apology.

I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt because I’m not a cold-hearted bitch and I understand that things do happen; life comes up. We rescheduled for another day. So the second chance rolls around and guess what? You do it again.

Two F*CKING days later. You stand me up. Again. With no text message or response when I call you to make sure everything is okay. No call back and no explanation.

Then comes another lame-o excuse in the morning via text. Grow a pair man. You’re such a prick that you couldn’t even call me.

Well, I’ve got news for you: you are such an idiot.

I’m not interested in people who waste my time and I have way more self-respect than to let someone, who ultimately is irrelevant, treat me as someone who can be cast aside but will still come crawling back when he says a few pretty words. I’m not desperate honey, you should try someone with a little less backbone if that’s what you’re looking for.

In the long run, I guess that you did save me some time. I didn’t have to go down this long twisty path to figure out that you’re scum. You proved it pretty quickly with limited emotional engagement on my part.

Actually I feel pretty sorry for you. You missed out on your chance with more than likely the coolest and funniest girl you’d ever meet, not to mention the opportunity to witness my stellar ass in person.

Go f*ck yourself.

XO, Maz

The Mr. Something Chronicles: Part Two

Dear Mr. Something,

Hi. Me Again.

I’d just like to reiterate a few things.

You are damn charming and I find that I have a very hard time saying no to you. Yet at the same time, I know that I probably should.

I know exactly how much trouble you are.

You are not the boyfriend type. I got that without asking. And trust me, I can say with near certainty that I am not the girlfriend type either, so don’t worry. That’s not where this is going. But there’s just something about you, kid.

You don’t give me butterflies. You give me heartburn.

Hearing from you and being with you is like an intense adrenaline rush, since it only happens every so often. It puts my senses into hyperdrive. How I see it, it’s like the build up of an insane beat drop. The anticipation is there. You’re waiting for it. You’re anxious for it. You want it to happen. Then it happens and you’re still surprised at how crazy it is.

Whether your drunk *ss calls me to discuss a need for litigation over a contract that doesn’t exist, or we’re having a pick-up line war and arguing over who’s funnier, or playing two truths and a lie and realizing how poor you are at following the rules, you just seem to be one of those people that fell right into place as a good friend, who I consequently also enjoy kissing. So, excellent work Jeeves.

I look forward to not hearing from you for a stupid amount of time and then still agreeing to go out with you when you finally do call, because let’s face it, you’re fun as hell.

See you in 3-12 weeks. Maybe.

XO, M.

When Maz Has a Question for the Fanz~


What do you do when you know you’re being super annoying about something but you still can’t stop thinking or talking about it? Maybe you tell many different people about said annoying thing or maybe you keep bombarding the same person with it? My ultimate question is how do I stop annoying other people and myself?

For example, totally hypothetical and not what I am doing at all, say you come up with this elaborate idea in your head that one of the men that you may sort of like is purposely ignoring you but every once in a while throws you a “hey” and also says something in his snapchat story that you know that he would never say, ever, but you say and have said it to him multiple times; and you’re almost certain that he just indirected you.  Then you call in all the people you know to tell you if you’re crazy and most say no, but one says yeah, and you’re just like; gloomy emoji.

Again, that’s totally hypothetical, off the top of my head something that I think could potentially make someone annoyed or annoying.

So fanz: HELP. Tell me how to stop.

To the Fan Who Wants Me to Sell Out~


How much would it cost to buy your love?


It’d cost a yacht, a private jet, a personal styling team, etc.

No, actually, I don’t think love can be bought. I think that it doesn’t take too much for me to love someone, and I have so much love to give; but it takes me a very long time to tell them about it. You know, fear of rejection and lots of other issues.

XO, Maz

Questions, comments, concerns? Place them in my anonymous ask box:

An Open Letter to that Canadian F*cker~

Hey Guy from Canada~

Thanks so much for being perfect and then telling me after the fact that you live in F*CKING Canada.

You laughed at my bad jokes. You told me I was cute, which is my favorite compliment of all time by the way. You offered to climb a skyscraper for me at some point. Not really sure what that one was all about. You told your own equally bad jokes and made me laugh, a lot.

But then you had to go and live a long ass way away, and tell me that you were only in the city for a visit, which you don’t do frequently.

What’s so great about damn Canada anyway?

You don’t even know Drake. Which I find very hard to believe, you guys are both Canadian, you both probably like hockey and maple syrup and spend lots of Canadian Looney seeing Ryan Gosling films, Aye?


A Very Bummed Maz