Jody Amable

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

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.

I was waiting to finally not like a Harry Potter book, and folks, I found it. Half-Blood Prince was boring.

There are a lot of things to hate about the Olympics.

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

The neighbors turned their lights off. My dog fell sound asleep. I kept reading. And at 1:03 am, I finished. All was well.

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.

A few weeks back, I got looped into an Instagram chat with some coworkers from one of my gigs, who were snarking about the fact that the

A new feature with music picks tailor-made to ensure your weekend jam sessions are absolutely ravishing.

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.