September 17, 2010 |
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Guess who’s back?
Don’t tell Sally, but cute PodCamp babes have been tweeting about me all week. Which means PodCamp Pittsburgh is back and I’ll be spending the weekend surrounded by babes… oh and their nerd brigade. I keep hearing whispers about Geeksmus, whatever that is.
PodCamp Pittsburgh 5 would be really great if it were just me and the cute babes. I could impress them by eating a flock of sheep, or Chachi. You know show, them what an actual monstrous killer death lizard looks like.
I’m trying to be more enthusiastic about PodCamp especially after all the great tips from last year about maintaining my online identity and not tweeting my poop (which I’m still not sure I believe). I say that because all my sessions were rejected by the organizers, and by organizers I mean Norm. It’s called an UNCONFERENCE. So I’ve decided to declare my own session: The Art of Tossing Cars into the River Without Breaking a Sweat 101. I’m expecting it to be quite popular.
September 1, 2010 |
Of course I lost a bet!
Do you think a fearsome monstrous death lizard wakes up one morning and says, “Today looks like a good day for cross-dressing complete with thirteen inch stilettos?”
No, what happens is that a student brings me four goats and says, “Bet you can’t eat just one.”
The gambler in me takes the bet. The dinosaur in me loses the bet.
And this is what happens:
Is “haute couture” French for “mandibles of death” because that’s the only way that sentence makes any sense.
The only good thing about this lost bet? They’re piping Lady Gaga music out of my very severe shoulder pads.
Hey, even a fearsome predator like me can appreciate a little “Rawr rawr ah ah ah.”
July 16, 2010 |
I stumbled upon this while searching for information on how to medically treat a dinosaur who swallowed a vuvuzela. Uh, I was searching on behalf of a friend. Who got mad. When the US lost. And he ate a Ghana fan’s vuvuzela. And now his burps are muffled and his farts sound weird…er.
Anyway, what I found was this little puppet show being featured in the Minnesota Fringe Festival of Performing Arts:
“Fartosaurus Rex!” is the saga of what happens when the king of carnivores decides to take up a vegetarian diet of legumes, broccoli and cabbage. His cholesterol levels go way down and he finds friendship with fellow prehistoric creatures now that they no longer worry about getting their heads bitten off.
But there’s also an unfortunate change to his digestive system. Fartosaurus Rex’s former prey used to flee his fangs. Now they fear his flatulence. Will the dinosaur lose his new buddies? Will climate change ensue because of this new source of methane?
A puppet show about flatulence, friendship and food politics, starring a giant green dinosaur who sings, dances and cuts the cheese.
I’m pretty sure I got ripped off, because last year when Norm was on his beans and more beans diet, I submitted an idea to the Three Rivers Arts Festival for a mini-theater production called Normasaurus Farts, about an annoying dinosaur who runs around tranquing innocent victims with silent but deadly farts. I was going to play the ruggedly handsome hero that eventually vanquishes the nuclear cloud hovering over the city.
Surprisingly, I never heard back. No matter, I’m sending a cease and desist letter to the Fringe Festival along with a bill for six trillion dollars.
Now, I’m off to Google “Does pooping out an entire vuvuzela hurt?”
For my friend.
June 29, 2010 |
I don’t know what country this is from or what language it’s in, but someone needs to tell the humans that dinosaurs eat them, not the other the way around.
Gee, I wonder what recipe one would follow to cook that up? I bet it goes like this:
Buy dinosaur meat. Preheat oven to 800 degrees. Open dinosaur meat. Sit and wait for certain death when that dinosaur’s mama comes and swallows you whole. Be digested alive.
Now, on the other hand, the recipe for this:
Would go something like this:
Steal 97.80 of whatever that currency is from Norm’s bank account (no, Norm, of course I don’t not have the numbers), purchase sabertooth meat, open sabertooth meat, devour sabertooth meat raw, use saber’s tooth as a toothpick, get tranqued with triple the necessary juice for pilfering Norm’s bank account for which of course I don’t not have the numbers. Lose three days.
June 23, 2010 |
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I’ve been very quiet for almost two weeks now and that’s because I’m up to something — hunting wabbits.
Just kidding. Like I would hunt rabbits. Those little hoppers wouldn’t satisfy my appetite unless I had about twenty dozen of them, buttered up like popcorn, which incidentally butter-drizzled rabbits are my favorite movie snack.
As I was saying, I’ve been up to something very … Canadian. I’ll fill you in someday when I can be sure I won’t be arrested for sharing it.
In the meantime … I don’t know anything about this:
All I’ll say is this: That Justin Bieber kid sure can run.
June 11, 2010 |
It has been very muggy and humid here in Pittsburgh as of late and I don’t know if you know this, but what humidity does to curly hair (Sally is SUCH a whiner about that), has got nothing on what humidity does to dinosaur skin.
Humidity + sweat + dinosaur skin + random drops of carcass blood * 50,000 = P.U.
I decided to do Norm a favor and go take my semi-annual bath a few weeks early when I encountered THIS:
What have they done to my spa bathtub at the Point?! It is completely dry!
This needs to be fixed immediately because believe you me, I can live with the smell, but as for you humans, I apologize for the scent of putridity and rotting flesh that is currently permeating downtown Pittsburgh.
On the bright side, now you know what Alex Ovechkin smells like.
June 2, 2010 |
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Without his knowledge, I’ve replaced Wrangler Norm’s normally boring, staid screensaver, this one:
With this supercalifragilisticfreakingamazing one:
Let’s see if he notices the difference.
I’ll let you know tomorrow exactly which body functions he loses control of.
May 19, 2010 |
Late Pittsburgher Andy Warhol (just another one of the billions of people I have outlived) had a self-portrait sell for a whopping $32.6 million at auction at Southeby’s when famed fashion designer Tom Ford put it on the block.
It’s basically a giant painting of a skinny purple man with messy hair, and Norm informs me that as an official representative of a respected and reputable art school, I should have a better appreciation of iconic art and should not call it a “giant painting of a skinny purple man with messy hair.”
He gets particularly mad when I call the Mona Lisa “that ugly chick.”
Forget skinny and messy, here’s an even better painting that I will sell for the low low bargain basement price of $25 million.
Does anyone have Tom Ford’s number because I understand he has a giant blank space on his wall now.
May 6, 2010 |
I eat two measly little Canadians, and ANNOYING Canadians at that, and the Habs fans think they can steal some of our mojo by stomping on a Sidney Crosby jersey?
First of all, you giant idiots, Crosby IS a Canadian. You stomped his jersey and that means bad mojo for Canada and good mojo for the Pens.
Second of all, back atcha.