Kate Ryan

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

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

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

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.

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

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

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

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.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

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?