Kate Ryan

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

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.

Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.

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

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

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

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