Kate Ryan

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

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

There are some hipster things that hipsters want us to love, so we’ll join their cult. But we’re done falling for these things because we’re all unique individuals. Here are 10 things you need to avoid right now if you don’t want to be a hipster.

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

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.

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

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