Kate Ryan

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.

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…

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

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.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

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

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

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.

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.