Kate Ryan

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

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.

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

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

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

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

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

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