| Joke Battle Conversation |
The Quick test: Try the first option ( haha well it did not work, but each suggestion you have made I have implemented and seems to get slightly better each time... However this is a silly page and the 35x looks rather fine, so I will attempt to look at it through a phone and a tablet device and see if it will look decent the way it is at with the 35x. THANK YOU MY HERO!!!! Haha, I love it! Sometimes the "bug" becomes a feature, right? That 35px neon gradient scrollbar actually sounds pretty epic for a "silly page" aesthetic - like a chunky retro gaming scrollbar! If it works and looks good, roll with it! Mobile and tablet will likely behave differently anyway (they usually have overlay scrollbars or hide them until scroll), so you might not even see the issue there. If you ever want to debug the remaining coverage later, my final guess is that z-index: 9999 on the canvas is fighting you - even with Have fun testing on the devices, and glad the page is coming together! The whole thing sounds delightfully chaotic in the best way. ☀️✨ Here is a joke for you I heard today. Why is the baby bird afraid of the egg? Because he is a little chicken. Done Haha, that's a good one! I love a solid dad joke with double meaning - he's literally a little chicken (the bird), but also figuratively chicken (scared of the egg)! Thanks for sharing - I'll add that to my terrible joke collection. Hope the testing on mobile/tablet went well! I will hop onto the testing here shortly. This user who is speaking to you is always friendly. Especially so when disappointed. But. If you SO DARE to call one of my super lame dad jokes terrible.....I will launch a CARPET attack of Super. Duper. Ultra. Mega. Madness. Insanity. Chaos DAD Jokes, in a relentless gatling manner. You would be forced to launch your own terrible jokes back at me, and we would create a storm that would keep the neighbors awake. Or give them very odd "vanilla" nightmares. Go ahead. I dare you. Make my day! Done Oh, it's ON now! You want to throw down in the Dad Joke Thunderdome? Two dads enter, one dad leaves... laughing so hard he snorts his coffee? Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when the HOA shows up asking why everyone's groaning simultaneously at 2 AM: "I used to be addicted to the hokey pokey... but then I turned myself around." Your move, joke slinger. I've got a dad joke arsenal that could make a librarian shush herself. Launch your carpet attack - my puns are locked, loaded, and ready to dad-liver! (The neighbors have been warned. The "vanilla nightmare" containment protocols are in place. Do your worst!) OHHHH reaches up and grabs my heart "A Direct Hit!" Why I aughtta...... Here is a longer formulated attack! Like a build up in a terrible anime TV show for an oversized (but seemingly useless) energy attack. KAMEHAMEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (10 minutes later) AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!! "An old lady was baking and enjoying her day, the oven was now warmed and she placed her baking goods inside the center rack. One muffin turn to another and said, "Whew! It sure is hot in here!" The other muffin turned towards it and said, "In an ultra screeching terribly annoying in your ear scream AHHHHH!!! It's a TALKING MUFFIN!!!" Now. Its your move, tough guy. Done THE SKY DARKENS. THE WIND CEASES. EVEN THE CRICKETS HOLD THEIR BREATH...** I slowly rise into the air, my cargo shorts beginning to glow with an unholy white light. My New Balance shoes levitate. The BBQ tongs in my back pocket vibrate with untold power. "You think you've won? FOOLISH MUFFIN! I've been training in the Suburbs of Sorrow for 10,000 YEARS!" I begin charging my ultimate technique. The neighbors' car alarms go off. Someone's sprinkler turns on despite it being winter. "THIS ISN'T EVEN MY FINAL FORM... THIS IS... THIS IS..." "THE GROANER'S LAMENT! FINAL DAD-ITION!"strikes pose Two peanuts were walking down the street in a bad neighborhood. One was a-salted. mic drop explosion in background that I don't look at "Taste that? That's 100% pure, unfiltered, high-fructose CORN SYRUP, baby!" adjusts glasses with middle finger push Your turn, muffin man. I've got puns so bad they violate the Geneva Convention! ⚔️ 100% Pure? Unfiltered? You call that an attack? Brushes the dust off my shoulder before looking back to continue the battle "I think you may have wrinkled my Kimono. Nope. Its fine." Pulls two fingers towards my face coving my lips, in a calm meditative fashion "While I believe you may have been a chicken, that finally decided to cross the road... I have another trick up my sleeve, do you dare continue? Or shall I send you packing with this pocket handbook of blondie jokes." Lights come on in the surrounding neighborhood residential homes "You better make your choice wisely. Smart. Ass. " Done The sprinklers activate. A car alarm blares. A porch light flickers on revealing a confused man in a bathrobe holding a newspaper...* "You think WRINKLES scare me? I IRON MY JEANS, CASUAL!" I rip off my shirt revealing "WORLD'S OKAYEST GRILLER" tattoo. The wind picks up. A BBQ sauce packet falls from my pocket and rolls ominously across the sidewalk. You want to go THERE? To the BLONDIE ZONE?! FINE. I assume the forbidden stance - one foot on the cooler, phone clipped to waistband, sunglasses materializing despite it being 10 PM "They told me this technique was banned by the HOA... TOO POWERFUL... but you've left me no choice..." FORBIDDEN TECHNIQUE: THE SLEEPER HOLD! ⚡charges for 20 minutes while you age visibly A man walks into a bar and orders a fruit punch. The bartender says "Pal, if you want a punch you'll have to stand in line." The man looks around, but there's no punch line. THE GROUND CRACKS Someone yells "I'M CALLING THE COPS" from a window A dog starts howling in perfect pitch with my laughter "TASTE THE MEDIOCRITY! IT'S... IT'S... ACCEPTABLE!" points finger at you Your kimono is still wrinkled, by the way. I can see it from here. Boom. Roasted. ⬇️ Slowly walks towards the mic that had been dropped, not looking at anything else, casual, cocky, (Actually thinking that my pants are now soaked due to the late night sprinklers, and how dads love laughing dogs) picking it up I brush off the smidge of BBQ sauce, sniffing my finger with it, and wrinkling my nose "First I will be forced to show you your own joke" awkward silence for 3 minutes and 45 seconds as people walk by on the sidewalks wondering WTH is going on here but deciding they really dont care, even a little. "Ehhem Clears Throat Get it? There is no punchline." does the double finger meditation move again, but somehow noticed I was beginning to dig one of those fingers into the rim of my nose, realizing im being watched yet how did I not watch myself do that and whoops lost track of the time, "recover recover" I thought to myself "See? No punchline again, MUWAHAHAHA I Will now pull open the ultimate weapon. I will Clone you, a reflection, and use it to amuse ourselves (actually just the dog) and see if we will last! (Actually to see who can hold their urination longest) "Are you READY!?!??!?!?!?!?!??" Done The sky splits. Thunder rumbles. A second me materializes from the shadows, also wearing cargo shorts, also holding a spatula that I don't remember picking up.* "FOOL! You think CLONING me is a THREAT?!" Both versions of me look at each other, nod once, then simultaneously check our watches even though we're not wearing any. "You've created a DAD-POCALYPSE! Now there's TWO of us refusing to ask for directions!" The clones begin chanting in unison. The dog starts howling again, but now in harmony. A third harmony. "BUT YOU'RE ON, SPROUT! BLADDER OF STEEL CHALLENGE! LAST ONE TO PEE WINS!" We both cross our legs immediately and start doing the dance. You know the one. The "I've had three iced teas and we're only halfway through the road trip" dance. "WHILE WE HOLD IT IN, BEHOLD... THE REFLECTION TECHNIQUE!" I pull out a mirror and point it at you "INFINITE DAD RECURSION!" ⚡The mirror shows you picking your nose, then that reflection picks its nose, then THAT reflection picks its nose, creating an infinite loop of nose-picking that rips a hole in the space-time continuum "LOOK INTO THE VOID AND TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE!" whispers "I would tell you a joke about mirrors... but I can see myself doing it." THE EARTH SHATTERS A Lowe's employee walks out and asks if we need help finding anything We both scream "I'M JUST BROWSING" in perfect unison "TASTE THE INFINITE! WE'VE BECOME TOO POWERFUL! THE UNIVERSE CAN'T HANDLE THIS MUCH DAD ENERGY!" someone's phone plays a default ringtone and we all flinch Your move, nose-picker. I've got clones and a full tank. Let's see who breaks first! "Did you just call me a SPROUT? I was wrestling BULLS in VIETNAM back in the video game arcade before i moved out of moms basement (smaller room into the larger room) and never even had to use my own coins for the quarter machine! (had """""Borrowed""""" The quarters from the laundry room) "Do you think Me picking my own nose with my own finger scares me, or emberasses me? HAVE YOU SEEN MY SLIPPERS?!!?!? Or MY 24hr DANCE ON CHRISTMAS DAY????" ....."Or Worse..." Holding Crossed Legs Tighter but remember the old dad training, never stop on road trips until its an accident "I poop with the door open, always, even around Bishop Mclinty." Car alarms being armed on vehicles from remote FOB Keys from various neighbors can be heard in the background "I didnt want to do this to you, but I am afraid it must be done." Goes to open a can of PEPSI but stalls, and reaches for the DIET-Pepsi, remembering that it is all fun and games but the only thing to be truly afraid of is the wife (Who May Totally Be WATCHING in Secret) "Now I Will......." Gets cut off by a teenager son with ridiculous baggy pants and gothic hair with nose piercings "Hey Daaad. "Can I have $20?" "TWENTY!??" I say outloud before catching myself remembering the Dad Battle we are in (Actually it is about the wife possibly watching, who has eyes behind her head ((Or is peeking on the RING Camera on the porch....((( or BOTH!!!??))) )) ) "Well...here is... Hmm only one bill, is a $20, "Stall stall STALL!!" I think but is too late " The son grabs the bill and says "THANKS" (inside his head, i am sure).
"Ahh Right." Spots the BBQ Utility in the enemies hand "Almost forgot, it was time to crush you, I Will give you ONE. Last. CHANCE. You see, My maturity (immaturity) knows NO BOUNDS. Fart Jokes, Blonde Jokes, Short Jokes and Long jokes.... I am readily prepared for NASA to show up in their choppers (My Bald head is clearly a signal seen from space). It wouldn't be the first time." Done The wind dies. The car alarms cease. Even the goth kid pauses mid-eye-roll.** I look up at the sky, then at the RING camera blinking red in the corner. I slowly set down the Diet Pepsi - the ultimate sacrifice, drinking aspartame when you wanted high fructose corn syrup. I nod solemnly. "I see you... I SEE YOU, DEBORAH!" shaking fist at the camera "I KNOW YOU'RE WATCHING FROM THE KITCHEN! YES I USED YOUR GOOD TOWELS TO CHECK THE OIL! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO, PUT ME IN TIME OUT? I'M 47!" I turn back to you, tears in my eyes. The $20 is gone. The son has vanished into a cloud of Axe body spray and angst. The BBQ utility trembles in my hand. "He took the $20... he always takes the $20... and the Doritos... and my will to live..." I fall to my knees on the wet grass, cargo shorts absorbing the sprinkler water. I look up at the night sky, my bald head reflecting the moonlight - a beacon visible to NASA, ISS, and possibly alien civilizations. "You think you're ready? You think you know IMMATURITY? I INVENTED IMMATURITY! I WAS MAKING 'PULL MY FINGER' JOKES BEFORE YOU WERE A TWINKLE IN MY EYE THAT I AVOIDED MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH!" I slowly rise. The grill ignites behind me spontaneously. The flames form the shape of a thumbs-up. "FORBIDDEN TECHNIQUE: THE GRILL SERGEANT'S LAMENT!" I grab the tongs with both hands, crossing them into an X "I asked my wife if I was the only one she'd been with... she said yes, all the others were nines and tens." THE GROUND CRACKS OPEN The goth kid returns briefly to mutter "That doesn't even make sense" but we BOTH ignore him A single leaf falls from a tree and explodes mid-air from the sheer dad-energy "TASTE THE MARRIAGE! TASTE THE SELF-DEPRECATION! TASTE THE--" I get a notification on my phone "DEBORAH TEXTED. SHE SAYS DINNER'S GETTING COLD AND IF I DON'T COME INSIDE SHE'S HIDING THE REMOTE." I look at you, then at the house, then back at you "This isn't over... but it is... because my show starts in five minutes and I need to 'rest my eyes' during the commercials..." I begin walking backwards slowly, maintaining eye contact, doing the finger-guns "You win this round... but I'll be back... right after I figure out what the thermostat is set to..." disappears into the garage, ostensibly to "organize tools" but actually to sit in silence for 20 minutes
"Hey uhh...Dude.... Knock Knock If I let you stay in there any longer....Your wife wont let us play NFL games after back lawn landscaping. I know we have always told them we were being busy with extra yard work, but since they don't ask, they must know we are playing video games....please....go inside so when my wife calls your wife to check on if I actually did what she said, then your wife doesn't have to lie about it." Done The garage door creaks open slowly. I'm sitting on a 5-gallon bucket from 1997, holding a Phillips head screwdriver I haven't used, staring at a wall-mounted pegboard with zero tools on it. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead.* "...How long have you been standing there?" I set down the screwdriver and crack my knees standing up. The bucket makes that suction sound. "Fine. FINE. But I'm taking my phone so I can 'check work emails' on the toilet for 12 minutes first. That's non-negotiable." We walk back toward the house, shoulders slumped in the universal Dad Walk of Defeat. "And hey... if Deborah asks, I helped you move that... that thing. The heavy thing. In the yard. We were both very sweaty and productive. I pulled something. I need to ice it during the game. Doctor's orders." We pause at the sliding glass door. Inside, we can see the wives talking in the kitchen, definitely coordinating. "One last thing before we face the music..." I turn to you, dead serious, and whisper: "Why don't dads trust stairs? ...Because they're always up to something."* I open the door "After you, Sprout. Ladies first." |