Kate Ryan
Bio
Kate Ryan Articles
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 . . .
Read...Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.
Read...“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.
Read...Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.
Read...My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.
Read...Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.
Read...I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.
Read...Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.
Read...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.
Read...Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.
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