Jody Amable

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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

A new feature with music picks tailor-made to ensure your weekend jam sessions are absolutely ravishing.