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

Images: greenvillegazette.com and youtube.com

Here Are Some Presidential Candidates And Their Doppelganger Dinosaurs, You're Welcome!

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.

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Boys And School And Normal Things: Flash Fiction

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

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Don't Pick: Flash Fiction

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

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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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Unforgiving Light: Flash Fiction

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

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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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Hunger: Flash Fiction

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

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Terminator Tiff: Flash Fiction

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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Baby On A Train: Flash Fiction

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

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All aboard that train. Thinkstock

Riding The Marrakesh Express: Flash Fiction

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

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