Kate Ryan

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

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

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

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.

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

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

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

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.