Jody Amable

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

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.”

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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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