Kate Ryan

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

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

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

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

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

We’ve all been there. Your boyfriend has a raging boner, but you’re just not in the mood to do anything with it. But how do you tell him to tone that boner down and quick? No need to worry. Here are ten simple, foolproof ways to kill that boner in ten seconds—or less—while keeping your man’s ego rock-hard.

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.

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

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.

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