Kate Ryan

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

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.

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.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

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.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

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

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.

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."