Kate Ryan

As an Uber driver, I have the privilege of talking to and eavesdropping on a sampling of L.A.’s finest, ranging from the clinically insane to the simply self-absorbed. As a writer, there is no end to the amount of inspiration my passengers provide.

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

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

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.

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

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

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…

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.