Kate Ryan

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

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.

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

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

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

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

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.

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.