I Am Glad There Is Git

Ah, the ancient hieroglyphics of code written before the holiday break. You stare at it like an archaeologist trying to decipher a dead language. "Who wrote this?" you wonder, before checking git blame and realizing it was you... three weeks ago. The coffee isn't strong enough for this level of amnesia. Your brain has completely purged all context about what the hell you were thinking when you wrote that nested ternary operator. Just approve it and type "LGTM" (Looks Good To Me), because honestly, who even remembers how this codebase works anymore?

That moment when your coworker submits a pull request with 10,000 lines of code and you just approve it without even looking at it. "LGTM" (Looks Good To Me) is the digital equivalent of "yeah whatever, ship it" while leaning back in your chair with zero accountability. The best part? You'll be on vacation when it inevitably breaks production next week.

When your code review finally gets personal. This guy skipped all the polite GitHub comments like "consider refactoring this method" and went straight for the jugular. Reminds me of that senior dev who once told me my variable naming convention was "a crime against humanity." The truth hurts, but at least he didn't create a PowerPoint presentation about my nested if statements.

The eternal duality of developer urgency! Your product manager frantically messages: "Need this PR merged ASAP!!!" But what they don't realize is you've mastered the art of interpreting "ASAP" as "As Slow As Possible." Like Skeletor here, you'll confidently declare your alternative interpretation before quietly slipping away into the shadows. That urgent feature request? It'll be ready when it's ready... which coincidentally aligns perfectly with your existing plans to refactor that completely unrelated module first. The best part? When they finally catch up with you three sprints later, you can just blame it on "unexpected technical complexities" and "proper testing protocols." Checkmate, management.

The GitHub contribution graph: where your self-worth as a developer gets reduced to little green squares. We've got "Just a Developer" with their random sprinkles of productivity, "The Weekender" who only codes when normal people are partying, and "The Unrealistic Expectations" who apparently never sleeps, eats, or touches grass. Don't forget "Getting Ready to Search for a New Job" with that sudden burst of activity right before updating the resume. The "GitHub Wizard" trying to look consistently productive, "The Mondrian" creating actual art with their commits, and "The Cupid Shuffle" forming little hearts because... why code efficiently when you can make your contribution graph look pretty? Remember kids, quantity of commits ≠ quality of code. But try telling that to recruiters who think your GitHub activity is a personality test.

The classic Scooby-Doo unmasking scene but make it debugging! The moment you pull back that ghost sheet only to find... yourself. Surprise! The call is coming from inside the house! Nothing quite captures that existential crisis when git blame points directly back at your commit from three weeks ago. "I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for my meddling self and that pesky version control!"