Kate Ryan

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

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.