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?

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

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.

In the aftermath of my mom passing, I've learned to reconcile our rocky relationship with the knowledge that she loved me.

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.

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.

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

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

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.