Kate Ryan

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

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

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

We all love our dogs. However, some of us take it a little too far, convincing ourselves that our dogs are actually our children. You call your dog your “baby” one day, and the next thing you know, you’re pushing him or her down the street in an expensive stroller. How did we get here? Trust me, it’s a slippery slope. Here are 12 signs you might have a dog-child.

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

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

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

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.

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.

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