Jody Amable

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

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.

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

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.”

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.

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.

Forget a cute story of wizard wonderment — the real moral of Harry Potter is that life is an endless parade of pain and turmoil where you have to watch everyone you’ve ever loved die.

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.