Kate Ryan

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

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

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

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

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

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

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.

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

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