Note: This. site. Blows. I can't post pictures anymore.

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He deserved it, too. And now for *echoing voice* INTERNET BACKLASH!

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Some... interesting... stories for you all. I'd spoilertag them, but This site still has major glitches.

This one's about Math... Yeah, let's go with that.

Once upon a time, pretty Polly Nomial was skipping through 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 never entered such an array without her brackets on. But Polly had changed her variables that morning and had been feeling particularly badly behaved, she ignored her mothers's condition on the grounds that it was insufficient, and made her way in among the complex elements.

Rows and columns enveloped her on all sides. Tangents approached her surface. She grew tensor and tensor. Quite suddenly, three branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point, she oscillated wildly and lost all sense of directrix. She tripped over a square root protruding from the erf, and tumbled headlong down a steep gradient. When she was once again in possesion of her variables, she found herself apparently in a non-euclidean space. She was being watched, however: that smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face. Was she convergent? He wondered. He decided to integrate improperly at once. Hearing an improper fraction behind her, Polly rotated and saw Curly approaching with his power series extrapolated. She could tell at once from his degenerate conic and his dissipative terms that he was bent to no good.

"Eureka!" she gasped.

"Ho, ho," said our operator. "What a symetric little asymptote you have. I bet your angles are just dripping with secs."

"Stay away from me!" she said. "I haven't got my brackets on."

"Calm yourself, my dear," he said. "Your fears are purely imaginary."

"I, I," she thought, "Maybe he's not normal..Maybe he's even a homomorphism."

"What order are you?" the brute demanded.

"Seventeen," she replied.

Curly leered. "Enough of this idle chatter. Lets go to a decimal place I know, and I'll take you to the limit."

"Never!" she gasped.

"Arcsinh!!!" He swore the vilest oath he knew. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places and began smoothing out her points of inflection. Poor Polly. She could feel his hand tending towards her asymptotic limit. The algorithmic method was now her only hope. Her convergence would soon be gone forever.

Curly's radius squared itself. Polly's loci quivered. He intergrated by parts. He intergrated by partial fractions.The complex beast even went all the way around and did a contour intergration. Curly went on operating until he was completely and totally exhausted of all his primitive roots.

When Polly arrived home that night, her mother noticed that she had been truncated in several places. But it was too late to differentiate now. Nine transformations later, she went to L'Hopital and generated a small but pathological function which left zeros and residues all over the place and drove poor Polly to deviation.

The moral of this story is: If you want to keep your expressions convergent, keep them well differentiated from complex operators.

And here's one about a car. Yeah...

she being brand-new, and you know consequently a little stiff, i was careful of her and (having thoroughly oiled the universal joint, tested my gas, felt of her radiator made sure her springs were O.K.) I went right to it. Flooded the carburetor, cranked her up, slipped the clutch (and then somehow got into reverse. she kicked. what
the hell?) next minute i was back in neutral tried and again slowly barely nudging my lever Right, and her gears being in A 1 shape passed from low through second-in-to-high like greased lightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity
avenue i touched the accelerator and give her the juice good. It was the first ride and believe I we was happy to see how nice she acted right up to the last minute. Coming back down by the Public Gardens i slammed on the internal expanding & external contracting brakes Both at once and brought all of her trembling to a dead stand-still

And finally, some Good old-fashioned Harry Potter.

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything

A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

"Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. "

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them.

"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted clas$oom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding.... Any second now, he might hear his mother again... but he shouldn't think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn't want to... or did he?

Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand
Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

'Get - off - me!' Harry gasped. For a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wand.

First of all, the site's advertizing is screwing with the page.

Second: Watch these videos. You will not be disappointed.

I'm writing a fanfiction involving my Avatar RPG Character. here's the link to my page.

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1312886/

Whatever. Facts:

1: Right now I'm playing Fire Emblem on my computer Emulators rule.

2: My Avatar RPG Character has a pregnant Girlfriend.

3: My girlfriend and I are both virgins (well, I am, and she says she is).

4: Uh... I learned to play That Aladdin Song on the piano.

5: I love doing this to people.

Now, who to tag?