Kate Ryan

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

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

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

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

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

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.

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

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