Jody Amable

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

So far, Deathly Hallows is, to me, about the divide between the living, the dead, and the living who have seen death. Harry and I are part of an exclusive club: Those under 30 who have experienced death. And when I say “experienced,” I don’t mean “witnessed.” I mean really, really felt it, all the way through.

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

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

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

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.

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 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.

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