A Hate Note to Germs~

Hey Germs around the world; f*ck off,

No, that doesn’t mean anything other than germs. I mean all the little things that weasel their way into your body and make you feel like sh*t. You’re assh*les!

I think that you’re mean spirited and you make me feel bad. I want you to go away and not come back. You’re like that mean girl in the seventh grade who laughs at my new shoes, even though I think they’re cool. Except, you’re a germ laughing at and crushing my health, even though I think being healthy is cool.


A Seriously Delirious and Drugged Up on Nyquil MazzyMaz.



When You Forget Something Important

I have this problem lately, because I have been very, very sick for a while. It has given me the worst brain fog and for some reason the total inability to remember anything that I need to remember.

Okay, so you’re probably saying, write it down!

Yeah, I do.

But I’ve been so damn out of it that I have written things down on the wrong due dates or at the wrong times and it has supremely messed up my schedule and my capacity to function as a real human.

I haven’t written a quality blog in over a week and I think I’m going to die. I promise that I’m trying to get it together.

Don’t Look At Me Complex

Ever have those days where you just want to yell at the world?

Don’t look at me!

Don’t breathe on me!

Don’t touch me!

Don’t come closer than my six-foot personal space bubble!

Don’t ask me if I’m okay!

It’s a cranky situation.

My “Don’t Look At Me” Complex is running straight to my soul today. I’m chalking it up to the fact that I have either strep throat or tonsillitis and I’m having a challenging enough time trying to keep my own head up, literally, that I really don’t have a single drop of energy more to entertain the masses. So no, I’m not acting like myself and no, I really don’t want to be around you. It’s not your fault though, so don’t take it personally. Give me a hot minute and I’ll get over it, but for right now; don’t look at me.

To the Fan Who Should Thank Their Mom~


Why do you feel better when your Mom holds your head/hair when you throw up?


Honest answer? Because mom’s are the best.

No matter the reason behind the puke, mom’s don’t care, they’ll just rub your back and be legends.

Did you eat a weird combination of Thai food and seven donuts? Mom isn’t judging.

Did you drink your own body weight in alcohol? Mom won’t reprimand you until the morning.

Mom’s are just built with that innate instinct to be human comfort devices. And honestly, I guarantee when you do throw up and you tell your mom about it after, some sense of her will feel bad that she wasn’t there to hold your hair.

This has been sufficiently pukey fan. Hope you have a better day/night with less up chuck.

XO, Maz

I want to hear from you!

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How To: First Night of Summer

The first night of my summer break occurred on Thursday. If you read my blog yesterday, you know that. And you also know what I wore, so you’re already two steps ahead of the game here.

So, I digress. Summer, night one.

I have to say, I was a little bit too ambitious in how fast I thought I would be okay to consume liquids and I’m going to fast track the story by saying: I drank a lot, and I drank a lot fast.

So, next thing I know, I’m double fisting some beers at the club (my favorite club, at that), which beer, ew. Because beer is so filling and I just shouldn’t have done it.

But alas, live and learn.

Next thing I know, I’m not feeling too great.

Like, that hot panic that shoots up your spine right before something terrible is about to happen. That’s the feeling I got.

I had a Cady Heron moment, I wasn’t sure if it was word vomit or actual vomit.

My friend and I line back through the crowd and once we’re through, I literally run to the bathroom and boom. Actual vomit. It was actual vomit. The second the stall door closes, puke.

I couldn’t believe it. That hasn’t happened to me in a really, really long time, and it has certainly never happened in a public place.

But I paid to get in, I wasn’t about to just leave and I actually felt so alive and ready to go. So, to get the throw up out of my breath, I got another beer.

Your typical puke and rally.

If this is a tell-tale sign of how my summer is going to go. I honestly can’t wait.

I Hate Breathing Through My Mouth

Fun fact, here I am, in London, sick, once again.

I know that I have posted about this before, but I just really hate being sick.

I hate breathing through my mouth.

I hate having to pack up all of my stuff at the library, just so I can go to the bathroom to blow my nose.

I hate how it looks like I’m crying because my eyes are watering so much, I swear, I’m not, you can stop asking if I’m okay.

I hate that I’m so tired. Like no. I just slept for 12 straight hours, but I need to have a nap at 2 PM to get through the rest of the day.

I hate that I feel like I’m dying, even though it’s probably only just a cold.

I hate that this sickness has made my level of production decrease by about 85% since last week.

I hate that I’m leaving in 2 days for Spring Break and that my immune system needs to really work itself out or else, I’m going to be real pissed.

I also hate that my being sick has made me bitter and complain-y.

So, I am going to try my damnedest to get back on track for the fanz. No more b*tching and whining, only when it’s truly necessary. I am making the promise to be more optimistic the rest of the week! Hope that you’re still with me!

The 8 Steps of a Hypochondriac

I am one of the worst people at being sick. I don’t think that anyone is good at it, but I am particularly bad. I am a giant baby and a hypochondriac. And it seems that as I get older, it doesn’t get any better.

Each cold/flu comes in steps:

Step 1: Feel that little tingle in the back of my throat when I wake up one morning.

My reaction: “Oh god, oh, oh no. This cannot be happening. I’m not getting a cold. No not at all. I just ate something weird. Oh sh*t is my throat closing? Am I having an allergic reaction? No, no. Calm down, this would have happened much sooner to the time that you actually ate. I am definitely not sick, and if I don’t say it out loud it won’t come true.”

Step 2: Get to mid day, feel completely fine.

My reaction: “See crazy, I told you that you weren’t sick. Look how quickly that passed.”

Step 3: The tingle comes back with a vengeance that night, paired with a stuffy nose.

My reaction: “F*ck. I thought we were beyond this! I can’t be sick. I don’t have time for this! I have the whole world to take on and being sick was not on the agenda. I bet Beyonce never gets sick. This is horse sh*t. I’m never going to fall asleep because I can’t breathe. And if I can’t breathe, I’m probably going to die. I guess I should write a eulogy or something in case I kick the bucket in the middle of the night.”

Step 4: Repeat steps 1-3 for about two days.

Step 5: That point where you have a runny nose constantly, possibly a cough, definitely a sore throat, mild headache, slight fever.

My reaction: “Why is this happening to me? I am a good person. I don’t deserve this hell. I drink lots of orange juice. I mean, maybe I could sleep a bit more, but I’m young, right? Sleep when I’m dead, that’s what they told me. I just didn’t think I’d be dying so soon. If only I knew sooner, I could have had more tea or had some preventative cold medicine. This would have never gotten to this point.”

Step 6: When you just look like absolute sh*t. You feel like sh*t. Everything is sh*t.

My reaction: Sleep. Sleep all day.

Step 7: That day when you have to get back to work or class and you’re still not feeling totally one hundred percent, but you have no choice.

My reaction: “Buck up bronco. Get you’re sh*t together. You’re sick and it’s time that you stop complaining and try to get better. Let’s go to the store, buy some anti-cold/flu medicine and pave the road to recovery, it probably won’t work, but at least you can say that you tried.”

Step 8: Getting better.

My reactions: “See, I knew I could beat this.”