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Math Problem

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- Wed, 10 Dec 2014 12:46:28 EST J8biWsPj No.14509
File: 1418233588653.jpg -(49410B / 48.25KB, 527x640) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Math Problem
Hi guys, I'm hoping I can get some math tips from you all. My girlfriend is a math major, and tells me that she's been having a lot of sex dreams about math recently. Sometimes, I'll find a calculator under the sheets. I'm not really a math person, so I'm not sure what to make of this or how to respond. Any tips? Thanks guys.
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Cyril Bardforth - Thu, 11 Dec 2014 01:42:02 EST OjzXZggc No.14513 Reply
>>14509
I show you some trigs to help you turn her on:
>get a tan
>do sweet things just cos
>always be real
>but also act natural and rational
>try moving your relations out of your domain
>make sure she's on top. otherwise you're being improper.

I'm bad at jokes.
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Doris Puvingsutch - Thu, 18 Dec 2014 01:04:40 EST Hs5ANTy/ No.14538 Reply
Once upon a time (1/t), pretty little Polly Nomial was strolling across a field of vectors when she came to the edge of a singularly large matrix.

Now Polly was convergent and her mother had made it an absolute condition that she must never enter such an array without her brackets on. Polly, however, who had changed her variables that morning and was feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the grounds that it was insufficient, and made her way in amongst the complex elements.

Rows and columns enveloped her on all sides. Tangents approached her surface. She became tensor and tensor. Suddenly two branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated violently, lost all sense of direction, and went completely divergent. As she reached a turning point she tripped over a square root that was protruding from the erf, and she plunged headlong down a steep gradient. When she was differentiated once more, she found herself, apparently alone, in a non-Euclidean space.

She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As he numerically analyzed her, his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, and a singular expression crossed his face. Was she still convergent, he wondered. He decided to integrate improperly at once.

Hearing a common fraction behind her, Polly rotated and saw Curly approaching her with his power series expanding. She could see by his degenerate conic that he was up to no good.

"What a symmetric little polynomial you are," he said. "I can see that your angles have lots of secs."

"Oh sir," she protested, "keep away from me. I haven't got my brackets on."

"Calm yourself, my dear", said our suave operator. "Your fears are purely imaginary."

"I, i," she thought. "Perhaps he's homogeneous."

"What order are you?" the brute demanded.

"Seventeen," replied Polly.

"I suppose you've never been operated on?"

"Of course not," Polly cried indignantly. "I'm absolutely convergent."

"Come, come," said Curly. "Let's go off to a decimal place, and I'll take you to the limit!"

"Never!" gasped Polly.

"Abscissa!" he swore, using the vilest oath he knew. His patience was gone. Coshing her over the head with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places and began smoothing her points of inflection. Poor Polly. She felt his hand tending to her asymptotic limit. Her convergence would soon be gone forever.

There was no mercy, for Curly was a heavyside operator. Curly's radius squared itself. Polly's loci quivered. He integrated by parts. He integrated by partial fractions. After he cofactored, he performed Runge-Kutta on her. The complex beast even went all the way around and did a contour integration. Curly went on operating until he satisfied her hypothesis, then he exponentiated and became completely orthogonal.

When Polly got home that night her mother noticed that she was no longer piecewise continuous, but had been truncated in several places. As the months went by, Polly's denominator increased monotonically. Finally she went to l'Hospital and generated a small but pathological function which left little surds all over the place and drove Polly to deviation.

The moral of the story is, "If you want to keep your expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freedom."
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Clara Blackfoot - Sun, 28 Dec 2014 10:32:31 EST Ezs3wk1S No.14547 Reply
1419780751100.png -(225485B / 220.20KB, 1920x1087) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
I liked it.
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James Grandcocke - Sun, 11 Jan 2015 08:47:33 EST oEhGbHUR No.14556 Reply
1420984053798.gif -(1148881B / 1.10MB, 300x300) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Here's my favorite math joke.

A Cauchy sequence is walking through town, when it sees on a wall a poster advertising a night club. "No limit night on Friday" it says. The sequence is all psyched for it, cause it's been a while since he last went clubbing, and this looked like the perfect occasion. So the sequence quickly goes back to it's place to put on it's best clothes and a nice cologne before heading to the club.
But then, when it is about to get in, the bouncer stops him and says :
Sorry, it's complete.

I just realised it may not work as well in English as it does in French. If it's the case and you're frustrated, here's a quickie.

Logarithm and Sinus wake up after a huge party. Sinus has the worst hangover ever, while Logarithm is fresh as a rose. Seeing the awful face his friend has, Logarithm says Man you really don't know your limits, don't you ?

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