Kate Ryan

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

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

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

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

“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.

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

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?

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.

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.