Kate Ryan

We all love our dogs. However, some of us take it a little too far, convincing ourselves that our dogs are actually our children. You call your dog your “baby” one day, and the next thing you know, you’re pushing him or her down the street in an expensive stroller. How did we get here? Trust me, it’s a slippery slope. Here are 12 signs you might have a dog-child.

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

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.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

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

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

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.