Kate Ryan

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

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

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

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.

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

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

For all of you crazy people that think going to Target is ever a good idea during the holiday season, this is a list on how to survive a shopping trip to Target is for you…

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

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