March is National Women’s History Month, and we’re celebrating by sharing a lady we admire each weekday.
GRACE HOPPER (1906-1992)
Born on Dec. 9, 1906 in New York City, computer scientist Grace Hopper led an extraordinary life. She earned a doctorate in mathematics from Yale in 1934 at a time when it was rare for women to earn such degrees. Hopper then became a professor at Vassar college where she remained until 1943, when she joined the U.S. Navy reserves. Having a passion for both math and computers, Hopper joined Harvard’s Computation Laboratory as a research engineer in 1946. She became only the third person to work on Harvard’s Mark I computer, the first automatic digital computer in America. (The military used the Mark I until 1959 for ballistics calculations.) It was during this time that she coined the term computer “bug,” after a moth caused a giant malfunction in the Mark I’s operation. Keep reading »
Thanks to Amy Benfer at Broadsheet for pointing out this article in the new issue of Self, called “Single, Pregnant and Panicked,” about the trend of twentysomething women having unplanned pregnancies. As the feature points out, we’ve all seen this trend in Hollywood — Nicole Richie, Jessica Alba, and Ashlee Simpson have all had babies in the last few years — but some of us, especially given the statistics, have probably seen it in our personal lives or experienced unplanned pregnancy ourselves. Despite editing this site, the statistics shocked me. About half of American women will have an accidental pregnancy before the age of 45. That’s kind of a scary thought, considering my addiction to high-fructose corn syrup (um, and red wine).
Andrea Vasa, a 30-year-old hot football — in other words soccer — player for Milan’s Brera team, is living in Dirk Bikkembergs, a high-end Italian store, parading around half-naked, lifting weights, and lolling about for anyone who happens to look in the windows. “Among the shelves and clothes hangers exposing the items that are for sale, Andrea’s personal clothes can be found, as well as the pictures and books he chose to take with him to his new home.” He’s got his own housekeeper and can invite over whomever he likes, but what if he wants to leave? “Before going out, Andrea will take a shower in a relax room papered with pages from Gazzetta dello Sport, compose his outfit for the following occasion, preen himself in one of the silver trophies, step into his Porsche and drive it out through a massive window that doubles as a garage door.” Fascinating! Too bad, Towleroad notes, the shower is the only part of the live-in scene that’s shielded from public view. Keep reading »
This is your mother speaking. You really shouldn’t be getting takeout for lunch every day. Not only are you throwing all of your money away, but you’re not eating all of your food groups! Why don’t you make something yummy for dinner and then pack it in a cute, reusable bag and take it to work? Martha Stewart even suggests a packable lunch recipe every day on her site, so you won’t need to waste a minute thinking about what to eat. You (and your wallet) will thank me when you’re older. Keep reading »
While the recession has screwed everyone, it’s really sticking it to a Romanian virgin. Grace Yataco, a Peruvian model, was offered 1.5 million for the chance to pluck her lady flower. Chaste Italian “Big Brother” star Rafaella Fico was offered 1.8 million dollars to be a whore on more than reality television. And here in the U.S., college student Natalie Dylan has been hocking her hymen to the highest bidder — so far, she’s got a $3.8 million dollar offer on the table. But for some reason, 18-year-old Alina Percea, from Romania, has only been offered a mere $7,000 in exchange for a whole weekend’s worth of sex. The beautiful, busty brunette is trying to raise enough money to go to college. But next to million dollar offers pouring in from pervs in other countries, it begs the question, what’s she doing wrong? Keep reading »
During a recent business trip, I found myself shoe-horned into the back of a taxi with colleagues in various stages of inebriation, hurtling through chancy neighborhoods of Baltimore. I was on my Blackberry with my wife, going through the litany of “kids/mail/bills/when are you coming home/this single mother crap is getting old” when the cabbie abruptly stopped at our destination.
“Gotta go, hon,” I said. “We just pulled up to the strip club.” My colleagues turned their heads my way, mouths open. Keep reading »