Kate Ryan

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

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

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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 died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

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

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

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.