Kate Ryan

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?

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

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

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

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

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

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

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.

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