Kate Ryan

We all love our dogs. However, some of us take it a little too far, convincing ourselves that our dogs are actually our children. You call your dog your “baby” one day, and the next thing you know, you’re pushing him or her down the street in an expensive stroller. How did we get here? Trust me, it’s a slippery slope. Here are 12 signs you might have a dog-child.

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

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.

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

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

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

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

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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.

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