Kate Ryan

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

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

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

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.

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

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

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.