Kate Ryan

Kate Ryan

Bio

A Revolutionelle is the woman curled up in the back of a cafe, accompanied by a good book and lots of espresso. She’s the kind of girl you want to grab a beer with. She unapologetically loves the Bachelorette and Masterpiece Classic. She’s a fiend for dark chocolate, cheeseburgers, juice cleanses, milkshakes, kale, boxed wine, and whatever the hell she feels like. She goes for long walks on the beach, takes long naps on the couch, hikes through the Sierras, skinny-dips in community pools, soaks in lavender-scented bubble baths, rides mechanical bulls, or does none of those things because she does whatever the fuck she wants. She’s a tomboy, jeans-and-tshirt-wearing, girly girl, diva, fashionista, rebel rockstar, tea-drinking diplomat, hellhound motorcycle babe, spiritually-centered yogi, bookworm, historical buff, comedian, jack of all trades, all in one day.  She’s a contradiction and that’s okay. She speaks her mind. She loves herself. She’s an all-around badass motherfucker.

Kate Ryan Articles

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Detention At Monster High: Flash Fiction

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

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How To: Kill Your Boyfriend’s Boner in 10 Seconds or Less

We’ve all been there. Your boyfriend has a raging boner, but you’re just not in the mood to do anything with it. But how do you tell him to tone that boner down and quick? No need to worry. Here are ten simple, foolproof ways to kill that boner in ten seconds—or less—while keeping your man’s ego rock-hard.

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Guns And Dishtowels: Flash Fiction

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

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Flash Fiction: A Restless Night On Earth

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

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Improv For Introverts: A Crash Course in Social Skills

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.

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How To Convince Yourself to NEVER Want Kids

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.

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What I Learned From Living With Five Guys

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

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Seahorse Man: Flash Fiction

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

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Touching Down: Flash Fiction

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

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School Lunches: Flash Fiction

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

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