Kate Ryan

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…

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

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

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

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

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.

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

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

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

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.