Kate Ryan

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

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

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

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…

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.

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.

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

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

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