I Was About To Have Lunch

The internal monologue of every database architect: "I spent years learning normalization principles, carefully crafting elegant table relationships... and now I'm denormalizing everything because some product manager needs the dashboard to load 0.3 seconds faster." The database gods weep silently as you create that redundant column, knowing full well you're trading future data integrity for a temporary performance boost. It's like watching your beautiful architectural masterpiece get a fast food drive-thru bolted onto the side.

Parents think removing devices will make their kid study, but software engineering students need those tools like a fish needs water. It's like confiscating a carpenter's hammer and saying "now build me a house." The kid's face says it all - that perfect blend of confusion, betrayal, and "you have no idea what my homework actually requires, do you?" Classic parental tech disconnect that's been happening since the first BASIC assignment was due.

The four stages of debugging your own code: First, the pride: "I fixed a bug today!" You're practically ready to update your LinkedIn with "Senior Bug Exterminator." Then, the crushing realization: "my own" - the bug you heroically vanquished was one YOU created. Congratulations, you played yourself. Followed by the existential crisis: "am I a genius?" The duality of being smart enough to fix something yet dumb enough to break it in the first place. And finally, the programmer's paradox: "I really can't say, but yes" - simultaneously the villain and hero of your own codebase. The circle of dev life is complete.

Content Bins learning to program from books learning to program from online tutorials learning to program by trial and error learning to program from youtube videos learning to program from memes

Content Pranay Pathole PPathole Find bug, write fix Click 'run', bug is still there Pull hair out over why obvious solution isn't working Question career choices Realise you didn't hit 'build and run'

Ah, the classic "my code is unreadable" joke with a religious twist. Some poor soul is looking at code that appears to be written with Hebrew characters and asks if Google Translate is needed to convert it back. The punchline hits when they realize English coding exists, as if they've been living in some bizarre alternate universe where RTL programming is the norm. The real joke here is that we all write code that looks like ancient hieroglyphics to anyone who didn't write it. Your 3AM spaghetti code might as well be in Hebrew, Aramaic, or Klingon for all the sense it'll make to your teammates tomorrow morning.