Kate Ryan

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.

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

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

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

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

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

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

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

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.