Bae's Theorem

Look at this beautiful chaos! The metric system booth sits lonely and abandoned while everyone flocks to the imperial madness booth. Why? Because apparently Americans prefer to measure things in "hamburgers per bald eagle" rather than those logical powers of 10! The metric system is like that friend who always has their life together—everything converts so neatly! Meanwhile, the imperial system is that friend who shows up to a potluck with a casserole measured in "three handfuls of cheese and a stick and a half of butter." And somehow, Americans are DEVOTED to this mathematical chaos theory!

Poor decimeter! The forgotten middle child of the metric system! While millimeters, centimeters, meters, and kilometers get all the cuddles and attention (just like that adorable dog), the decimeter sits alone, neglected and confused like that existential cat. It's the scientific equivalent of being left on "read" by the entire scientific community! The cat's progression from confusion to intense existential crisis perfectly captures how the decimeter must feel after centuries of being the metric unit nobody invites to parties. Even rulers skip from centimeters straight to meters—talk about being ghosted by measuring tools!

That moment when math gets way too literal! Instead of drawing some fancy perpendicular arrow on a whiteboard, this guy's just aggressively pointing his finger straight at the table. "You see this plane? THE NORMAL VECTOR IS RIGHT HERE, BUDDY." Mathematicians don't need abstract representations when they can just jab their finger at reality. Who needs equations when you have perfectly good pointing appendages? Next time someone asks about tangent vectors, I'm just gonna stroke the surface sensually and wink.

Dating in STEM fields requires proper filtration methods. This elaborate mathematical expression likely evaluates to a simple 10-digit phone number, but serves as an effective screening mechanism to ensure only those with sufficient calculus trauma can make contact. The beauty here is that solving this equation is basically the first date. By the time you've worked through all those logarithms, cube roots, and trigonometric functions, you've already invested more time than most relationships last anyway.

Every math textbook ever written follows this exact template. Chapter 1 lulls you into a false sense of security with pretty flowers and rainbows, making you think "Hey, I might actually survive this course!" Then chapters 2 through N hit you with incomprehensible symbols, upside-down letters, and what appears to be ancient demonic script summoning the math gods of suffering. The skull and tombstone at the end? That's just documenting what happened to your GPA. No wonder mathematicians have such dark humor—they've seen things in Chapter 7 that would make Lovecraft weep.

That transcendent moment when your infinite series calculation starts approaching π or √2 instead of a nice, clean rational number. The cosmic horror! Your perfectly orderly mathematical world crumbles as you realize you're doomed to an eternity of decimal places that never repeat. No matter how many terms you add, you'll never reach exact precision—just an endless asymptotic tease. Mathematicians don't cry, they just stare dramatically into the void while surrounded by sparkly backgrounds.