Kate Ryan

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

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.

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

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

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

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

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

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.

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

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.