It helps if the words "form a normal subgroup" and "under function composition" form actual phrases in your mind. Without that kind of context, it's just a string of words skulking around with Intent to Have Too Many Letters.
Spike's Bitches 27: I'm Embarrassed for Our Kind.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Oh, and yeah, I'm completly aware that I'm just missing the hell out of my grandfather and projecting it onto his coat but that doesn't seem to be relieving the pissy stressy at all.
Trudy, I do this too. I'm sorry about the coat - hopefully they will help you tomorrow.
It helps if the words "form a normal subgroup" and "under function composition" form actual phrases in your mind. Without that kind of context, it's just a string of words skulking around with Intent to Have Too Many Letters.
Also automorphisms, which is where my brain gets stuck.
I'm feeling crappy tonight. I seem to have forgotten how to live nicely with other people in the last year. Also, my husband deals with stress by sleeping, so he and Ellie have both been asleep for the last hour and a half. Which is fine for them except that I am alone, again, like I have been all day.
They'll just make a face at me, they thought I was nuts to keep the lining.
Grrrrrrr.
I suppose its possible its in a wastebasket. But they'll still make a face at me.
I'm also feeling like a hay-seed. I don't know a fine coat when I see one, apparently.
Well, I knew it was nice, I just didn't know what to do with that fact.
What I particularly like is that there are automorphisms, isomorphisms, and homomorphisms, and they all mean different things and I'm supposed to keep them separate. Except don't they all mean "same/equal shape"? I mean, I do know what they mean, but... argh.
Not a hayseed. And while, yes, they probably will make faces at you, they will be WRONG WRONG WRONG to do so.
Oh, poo, Stephanie.
You can join me in my cranky corner. Lillian's napping, and Paul's off at work because there's a broadcast or taping or something. (David Lynch is to blame. For reals.) I'm awake, and nothing is getting done, because I have to be here with the baby while she naps, and when she wakes up, I need to be entertainment central.
I seem to have forgotten how to live nicely with other people in the last year.
Sorry, Steph. This feeling comes and goes for me, too.