Kate Ryan

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

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

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

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

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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

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.

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.