Kate Ryan

The case of beer I brought, as my mother explained, is “pure poison” and so I must drink it all by myself.

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.