Kate Ryan

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

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.

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.

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

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 . . .

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

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.

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

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