This is a Tay März IT Solutions™ product. Created with tears, sweat, and an unhealthy amount of rage.
Please don't break it - it's been through enough already. Each line of code represents a tear shed in the dead of night.
Made with pain and suffering because someone thought it would be a good idea.
If you find any bugs, please don't tell me - I already know and I'm too tired to fix them.
My bug tracker is just a whiteboard with "¯\_(ツ)_/¯" written on it in what I hope is red marker and not blood.
This project was built by a single developer who definitely didn't cry themselves to sleep every night.
The code is held together by duct tape, prayers, and the tears of a thousand broken dreams.
Don't ask how - I don't know either. My documentation is written in blood, coffee stains, and the occasional tear drop. Documentation? What's that?
The development process was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.
Every time I thought I had fixed something, three more bugs would appear like cockroaches in a horror movie.
The codebase is a beautiful disaster - like a Jackson Pollock painting, but instead of paint, it's made of tears and regret.
My version control history looks like a crime scene, and each commit message is a cry for help.
My error handling strategy? I don't have one. I just pray to the tech gods and hope for the best.
The documentation is written in a mix of ancient hieroglyphs, passive-aggressive comments, and the occasional tear-stained coffee cup ring.
If you're reading this, you're probably as desperate as I was when I built this thing.
My error messages are just different variations of "I'm sorry, I tried my best" and "Please don't hurt me."
The testing phase was particularly special. I had a QA team of one - my boyfriend Oliver, who suggested most of these features.
He nodded approvingly at everything, which was both concerning and oddly comforting.
My CI/CD pipeline is more like a CI/CD puddle - it's there, but you're not sure if you should step in it.
My test coverage is like a Swiss cheese - full of holes and probably made by someone who was crying.
The performance optimization was done by throwing hardware at the problem until it stopped crying.
My database queries are like a drunk person trying to find their keys - they work, but nobody knows how or why.
The frontend is held together by the digital equivalent of bubble gum and hope.
My cache strategy is "if it's slow, try again tomorrow" and my load balancing is just a prayer circle.
Security? I have a firewall I think. It's made of paper, but it's the thought that counts.
My encryption is so strong that even I can't decrypt it sometimes.
The authentication system is like a bouncer at a club - it lets everyone in but makes them feel bad about it.
My security policy is "if you can break it, you deserve to break it" and my backup strategy is "hope for the best."
If you're wondering how long it took to build this masterpiece of chaos,
just look at the badge below. Yes, that's how many hours of my life I'll never get back.
Each commit represents a piece of my soul that I'll never recover.
The project timeline is written in blood stains and tear drops.