Kate Ryan

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.

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.

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

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.

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

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.

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

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.

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