Kate Ryan

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.

Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.

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

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

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

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

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…

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

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.