Sometimes It Feels Like My Brain Has A Mind Of Its Own

The enthusiasm of typing git init versus the crushing weight of responsibility that follows is a universal constant. It's that moment when you're like "I'm gonna build the next billion-dollar app!" and then your side project stares down at you judgmentally from the rooftop of abandoned ambition for the next 3 years. The folder sits there, taking up 12KB of disk space and 600GB of guilt.

Content company All their source code Employee who gave 2 weeks notice I'lI take that, my lad

The secret ingredient to landing that high-paying dev job? A clean shower. Not clean code, not a fancy portfolio, just pristine bathroom tiles. Tech recruiters aren't looking for your GitHub contributions—they're desperate for engineers who understand the concept of personal hygiene. In an industry where "works from home" often means "hasn't seen sunlight in 72 hours," a shower photo is basically a competitive advantage. The bar is literally on the floor... or in this case, the drain.

Content Supervisor: Remember the format you're supposed to comment when committing to GitHub? Me: Yes. Supervisor: Then why did vou write "Cool changes" here?

Content Please update Visual Studio Installer before proceeding. Update

Remember that client who wanted a "simple horse app" with a three-day deadline? Yeah, this is what happens when you code on vibes alone. You proudly announce your "fast running horse" while delivering what's clearly a cow with identity issues. The classic requirements vs. implementation disaster that haunts every sprint planning session. And the bottom text just nails it – we're all doomed to keep drawing cows when asked for horses because "the specs weren't clear enough" and "it technically has four legs, what more do you want?"