Jody Amable

I'm 30 years old and stuck in San Jose, the hometown I always wanted to leave. What happened?

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.”

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.