Kate Ryan

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

As an Uber driver, I have the privilege of talking to and eavesdropping on a sampling of L.A.’s finest, ranging from the clinically insane to the simply self-absorbed. As a writer, there is no end to the amount of inspiration my passengers provide.

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.