Kate Ryan

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

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

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

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

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.

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

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.

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