Kate Ryan

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

For all of you crazy people that think going to Target is ever a good idea during the holiday season, this is a list on how to survive a shopping trip to Target is for you…

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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

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.

The case of beer I brought, as my mother explained, is “pure poison” and so I must drink it all by myself.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.