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.

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

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

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

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.

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

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

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

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.