Jody Amable

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

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.

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

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

I couldn’t help but assume the reason these people were telling me not to say even a word to this troll was because women aren’t supposed to fight back. We’re supposed to rise above — to “not stoop to their level,” as my mom used to say.

Creator of grungy, gritty rock and roll with a poet’s heart, her critically-lauded record, Beyond the Bloodhounds, tells tales of a tumultuous childhood and split geographical identity.

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.”

FINALLY someone acknowledges professional boundaries at Hogwarts.

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.