Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

Hi, I'm Rex, I'm a dinosaur and this is my blog.


Adventures in Dinositting

@ChachiSays twitter excerpt:

Norm: “Remember Chachi?”

Rex:That guy I destroyed?”

Norm: “You didn’t destroy him.”

Rex: “I recall otherwise.”

Norm: “He’s my friend, you know.”

Rex: “He’s my enemy that I destroyed, you know.”

Norm: “He’s also my friend on Twitter.”

Rex: “I wouldn’t know that because you don’t actually let me use Twitter because you think I’m irresponsible or some other such nonsense and is this conversation going to have a point soon because I’m kind of feeling like punching you right now.”

Norm: “With those puny — uh, anyways, Chachi was talking on Twitter today about how much he wants a dinosaur.”

Rex: “To fight?”

Norm: “No.”

Rex: “To tranq?”

Norm: “As a pet.”

Rex: “Good luck with that.”

Norm: “I told him you would hang out with him this weekend and kind of be his pet slash friend and he could sort of be your handler since I’m going out of town tomorrow and I actually did need someone to keep an eye on you and he promised he wouldn’t tranq you unless it was absolutely necessary and Rex, sit down and stop breathing like that.  What are you doing?  Rex, stop right there.  Don’t make me –”

And when I came to, Norm was gone and this Chachi guy is standing there with a stupid grin on his stupid face and he keeps calling me “Rexy” and this weekend is going to be very not okay. For Chachi.


era: Cenozoic . species:

Oregon Trail of Death

The other day I was hanging out in the student lounge watching some Olympics on TV, which, I’m seriously thinking about taking up snowboarding, when I couldn’t help but overhear some students talking, because I was eavesdropping.

They were talking about some old computer game disks they found and they said two words that caught my attention: oxen and oxen.

I waited until they were distracted by the Danish curlers, then I swiped their disks and headed to my room to check out The Oregon Trail.

First the game wanted to know who was leading the expedition and of course, that would be me.  I’m the most experienced and a natural born leader.  This will be easy for me.

Then it wanted to know the names of the four people in my party:

Blor’s Kid Blor and Barney are what you would call Red Shirts.  Sacrifices to the Dysentery Gods, if you will.

Then we went to Matt’s store to purchase supplies for the trip.  Matt tells me the oxen are to pull the wagon and I tell Matt to throw a couple extra yoke of oxen on the bill so that I can have some snacks on the way.

Matt also told me I should take two sets of clothing for everyone in my party, but that seems wasteful, so I only purchased one set for each of them. Hey, I’m going naked, they should be able to make due with one set of clothing.

Off we go!

So, we’re not THIRTY THREE miles from home when:

I lost 769 pounds of food probably because Blor’s Kid Blor discovered fire while on the wagon.  I hate that kid.

Good thing I have extra oxen.

This displeases me greatly. We are still only 33 miles from home and already the humans are stealing my food.  Also, how does one steal an ox without anyone waking up?!  I blame Blor.

NO, NOT SALLY! NO!  Also, seeing as I lost five sets of clothing, that means EVERYONE is now naked.  Fantastic.

But on the plus side, rest in hell, Barney.

We got lost?!  I blame Blor.

He had it coming!

Things got very bad, very fast.

Poor Norm.  Being naked with no food in the middle of March will do that to a human.  He should have packed some extra clothes and some snacks or something.  Notice we’re completely out of food.  I blame Blor.


I’m all alone at this point.  All my people and my oxen are gone.

I spend my days waiting for death.

Stupidest game ever.




The other day, Norm and I had this conversation.

Norm: Hey, Rex, first, did you see that promo for “Tyrannosaurus Sex?” And second, I’m getting some complaints about you lighting students’ backpacks on fire with your Olympic torch.

Me: First, TYRANNOSAURUS SEX?  Did we suddenly subscribe to DinoMax and you didn’t tell me? And second, I don’t know anything about that.  Kids are liars.

Norm: They showed me their burnt backpacks and the hair on the back of their heads.  Most of them have reverse mullets now thanks to you.

Me: Hee. Yeah, I don’t know anything about that.  So, what’s this about dinosaur sex on TV?

So on Valentine’s Day, I tuned in to the Discovery Channel of all places to watch as scientists attempted, quite poorly, to explain dinosaur sex to the humans.

You can watch a video here, but as a real live dinosaur, I am telling you that these so-called “scientists” didn’t get ANYTHING right about dinosaur sex.

Let me explain to you how it REALLY works.

[redacted by Norm]

I know. Amazing. Try not to be so in awe of me the next time you see me.


era: Cenozoic,Prehistoric . species:

Do you smell something burning?

The world is currently in the throes of Olympics-glee as the Winter Olympics are being held up in Vancouver, BC, Canada.

Here at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, the students have given me this fancy, Olympics-inspired background.

I don’t know what that’s supposed to be in the background over my shoulder, but if I had to guess, I’d say Stonehenge.

You’ll notice I’m holding a torch.  I’m happy about this.  Not because it goes well with the background and not because the burnt orange of the flame brings out the fierce reds of my eyes, and not because it keeps me warm since I’m standing out here naked all the time (which, you’re a heck of a handler, Norm), but because you should SEE the look of terror on the passing students’ faces when they first realize that their backpacks are on fire.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,

Wah wah wah.

What?!  What?!  I’m sorry, can you speak up?!

I can’t hear you over all the moaning and the whining that Pittsburghers are doing just because we got a measly 30 inches of snow.

Live a couple million years during the Ice Age and 30 inches of snow is cause for play, not WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE panic.

The first night of the storm, I walked over to the CMU campus to see how the smartypants were doing, and I accidentally stumbled into an epic snowball fight:

(source Boring Pittsburgh)

See those two guys by the light pole, kind of looking down at the ground like they’re hunting for something? Yeah, they’re looking for their brains because taking a dino-sized snowball to your face will definitely result in spilled brain matter.

Then, it was again with the whining and the moaning and the “Rex, YOU KNOCKED OUT HIS BRAINS!”

He’s a CMU student.  I’m sure he has brains to spare.

The next morning, there was so much snow on the ground I was able to play hide and seek with the children in Squirrel Hill.


You should have seen the look on that kid’s face when I jumped up from underneath the snow pile and roared at him.

Then it was again with the whining and the moaning and the “Daddy, I peed my snow pants.”

I headed from Squirrel Hill to the University of Pittsburgh where again, I found myself in the middle of a snow fight.


There’s a couple of things you can learn from that photo — but the most important thing you can learn from it is what TOTAL AND ABSOLUTE PWNAGE LOOKS LIKE.



Dodge this.

As promised, I attended my first dodgeball match last Thursday here at the school and I have to tell you, I’m pretty ridiculously awesome at dodgeball.  I mean, this game was MADE for me. They might as well change the name to Rex Ball or DinoKillBall.

I walked into the gym without a team, but that changed quickly because if you are a dodgeball team of art students and a giant monstrous killer death lizard walks into the room looking for a pick-up game, you ask that T-Rex to join your team and when he says that he was already asked to join a team, you bribe that T-Rex with fresh carcass to be delivered at a later date.

I’m easily swayed by carcass.

When it came time for the first match-up, our opponents took one look at me and I guess they realized they had two choices, weep in fear or taunt.

They chose taunt. Very ill-advised.

“Hey, Rex, you’re kind of a big target aren’t you?”

“Hey, Rex, eat my shorts!”

“Hey, Rex, can those little toothpicks you call arms even hold the ball, let alone throw it?!”

I took their taunting quietly while the balls were lined up on the center line and then as soon as the whistle blew, I ran forward, turned sideways, use my giant tail to sweep the entire opposing team backwards like I was sweeping up floor crumbs, and then I pinned them to the wall and held them there to squirm while my team pelted their faces with red rubber balls.

We won, of course.  I’m not sure what the final score was, but I’d estimate it was -5,000 to sixty billion.

Against the rules, you say?

Funny, the refs didn’t have any objections to my style of play once I showed them my teeth.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,

Like big red rubber snowballs

I was roaming the halls of the school this week, totally not getting into any kind of trouble, and totally not stalking the culinary students to see if they were carrying any leftovers on their persons, when I noticed a poster advertising a student dodgeball match.

Dodgeball.  Otherwise known as “The Only Sport in Which the Humans Hand Me a Rubber Ball and Tell Me to Try to Decapitate People With It.”

It’s tonight at 5:00 p.m. and I’m so there.

I’ll let you know how it goes, how many heads roll, and how very loud and whiny the sissy humans are when they look in the mirror to find rubber ball indentations on their foreheads.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,


This weekend, my girlfriend Sally dragged me to the Benedum to see Cats.

Here’s a tip.  They’re not real cats.

Here’s another tip.  I’m not allowed to go to the Benedum on an empty stomach anymore.