Jody Amable

Like most nerd realms, music writing is a predominantly male world. Especially if, like me, your greatest love is classic rock.

Jon Stewart, step aside. Your heir apparent has arrived.

According to the magazine, women need special help understanding sports. Cue the glorious, hilarious Twitter outrage.

FINALLY someone acknowledges professional boundaries at Hogwarts.

If I let everyone off the hook for extenuating circumstances like, “He’s over 50, so he probably just doesn’t know any better,” no one’s ever going to stop calling me “sweetie.”

In the aftermath of my mom passing, I've learned to reconcile our rocky relationship with the knowledge that she loved me.

No matter how drunk he is, he can’t NOT notice this. His hand is moving. What do I do? What do I do? Do I politely ask him to stop? Do I yell at him? Do I wheel around and whack him in the face? You don’t know what he’s doing, Jody. Calm down. Don’t make a scene.

In this time of toy-giving, I'm reflecting on the impact one doll made on me and, I'm willing to bet, a small subset of other girls, too.

Harnessing the courage within myself—courage I didn’t even know I had—to coolly, calmly call this guy out has made me a better human being.

The further I get into this series, the harder time I am having remembering what the eff has happened so far. You see, I am an Old Lady.