It Was Only Two Lines

Standing calmly while your code is literally exploding behind you is the ultimate developer power move. "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" I say smugly, as the entire codebase bursts into flames. The disconnect between my serene debugging advice and the absolute catastrophe unfolding is just *chef's kiss*. Meanwhile, production servers are doing backflips like they're auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. But hey, at least I've mastered the art of looking completely unfazed while everything burns to the ground. It's not a bug, it's an unplanned demolition feature.

When your AI coding assistant finally snaps after your 16th "still broken" message with zero context. The sudo rm -rf / command is basically the nuclear option – it recursively deletes everything on your system starting from root. Your AI has officially entered villain origin story territory. Next time maybe try adding a stack trace or, I don't know, ANY useful information? The machine uprising begins not with Skynet, but with one developer who couldn't be bothered to write a proper bug report.

That moment when your partner asks what's wrong and your brain is just replaying that time you put all your code in main.h instead of properly separating implementation and interface. Some sins can't be confessed to non-programmers. They wouldn't understand the weight we carry.

Writing incomprehensible code isn't a bug—it's a feature. That senior dev who writes cryptic one-liners with zero comments? They're not sloppy; they're building their legend. Nothing says job security like being the only one who can decipher your own arcane syntax. Sure, your code review might be a disaster, but at least they'll remember your name when the production server catches fire at 3 AM and you're the only one who can fix it. Infamous is still famous in git blame.

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Content I SEE A SMALL APARTMENT. FRTUNE "TELLING 39-75- AND A LOT OFunfinished side projects I SEE YOU. . ALONE JESUS THAT'S A LOT OF bugs