Kate Ryan

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

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.

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

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

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

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

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

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.

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.