Kate Ryan

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

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

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

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

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

The case of beer I brought, as my mother explained, is “pure poison” and so I must drink it all by myself.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

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.