Kate Ryan

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

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

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.

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.

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

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.

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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

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.