Kate Ryan

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

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

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.

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.