You have a baby on the way, and last night your dream transitions from a baby sleeping peacefully in a crib, to this:
Fer fark’s sake.
- That’s just pathetic. Dreaming about code? Evidently I need a vacation, and just in time for the new baby to arrive. Splendid.
- Even in my dreams, I make terrible jokes. You’d think that my resting brain could at least come up with something witty, but no. Child abuse? Hardy har har. Jackass.
- Let’s not even talk about the quality of the code.
Listen, Brain, I’m not terribly impressed with your level of activity these days. First you told me it was a good idea to pass gas in a crowded public elevator. Then you told me to blame it on the hot chick standing next to me. I got slapped. HARD. And now this? You’d better pick things up, or, to paraphrase a very wise man, I’ll stab you with a Q-tip.