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

Rex

im in ur bordz …

funny pictures

Today is all about hockey.  I can’t stop thinking about hockey to the point that Sally can’t stand to be around me anymore because I’m like, “And then I ran into Matt Lamanna and hockey I chased him hockey for about three hockey blocks before hockey he started crying hockey hockey hockey.”

I can’t argue with her that I’m being obsessive.

There are so many things being said today by Penguins fans as we pump ourselves up.  Things like:

Psst. Councilman Peduto? THEY’RE going to take THEIR stuff over THERE.  Okay? Okay.

And so many pictures being emailed around as we attempt to express visually that which we feel way deep down but can’t find words adequate enough.  Things like:

Those pictures were actually created by AIP staff member Sunil Ketty

But despite what we say and despite what we create, it all … always … comes down to math.

Mojo > No Mojo

Iceburgh > Stinky dead eight-legged cephalopod

Everything on Earth > Marian Hossa

Me > Everything on Earth

Penguins > Red Wings

Rawr.


Rex

Rex’s (and Sally’s) Call

All this hockey insanity (I still have the Mojo Octopus in my jaws. It has been bolted and booby-trapped and possibly wired with explosive dino poop, so again, step off) means that I haven’t checked in with Cat and her jaunty hat lately to give you advice from a dinosaur’s perspective.

Let’s see what delicious nuggets of wisdom she wrote this week:

DEAR CAT: Last year at this time I was diagnosed with cancer and began months of chemotherapy. I am happy to say I beat it and am now cancer-free! My question to you is: Am I damaged goods, so to speak, when it comes to women and dating now? I am a single, straight, never-been-married, educated thirtysomething male. I’m pretty average-looking and in decent shape. I have a great family and wonderful friends. Why am I still single? I have always been a “friend” to girls, not a “boyfriend,” and I don’t know why. Since I’ve had limited success in the past with women, it seems that being a cancer survivor is a strike against me. I appreciate your thoughts. — DAMAGED GOODS?

REX’S CALL: I’m a guy. A giant, handsome, muscular guy, so I didn’t think I could offer advice to you about this, so I asked my girlfriend Sally to give you advice.  She said:

SALLY’S CALL: Mmmmmmmrawr. Cancer survivors are hot. Don’t tell Rex.

Uh, Sally, I’M RIGHT HERE! God.

Anyway, sir, you’re not damaged goods. Go find yourself a girl, grab her by the shoulders, show her a scar and say, “Yo. I beat cancer. Kiss me.”

How do you think I landed Sally? I grabbed her and said, “Yo. I beat the extinction. Kiss me.”

Rawr.


Rex

Various curiosities.

1. You must believe in the power of the Mojo Octopus by now.

I aged more over those 60 tense minutes of hockey than I have aged in my previous 65 million years on Earth.

I know for a fact my heart literally stopped beating as I watched Rob Scuderi play goalie for a scrambling Marc-Andre Fleury.

Luckily Norm was standing by to kick me in the chest as hard as he could to get the old ticker beating again.  And then I smacked him into the wall for having the audacity to kick me.

Game 7. We have the mojo. DON’T BE STUPID AND TRY TO STEAL THE MOJO!

2.  I’m getting even more famous now.

  • Pittsburgh Sports and Mini Ponies (delicious BITE-SIZED PONIES!) called me a “beast”, which, yes, the last time I looked in the mirror and smiled to reveal blood-stained teeth, I am very much a beast.  Then they also revealed that I’m not a bandwagon fan.  Of course I’m not a bandwagon jumper. I weigh 5 tons. I would DESTROY the bandwagon!
  • Yahoo! Sports’ Puck Daddy has posted twice about me and my penchant for munching on whimpering octopi for the sake of my entire city. I think he’s, like, in awe of me.
  • And last night, NBC showed me standing guard outside of AIP and the commentator asked, “Who is that little guy?”  Hey, NBC, come here and say that to my face you Red Wings-loving [redacted by Norm].

3.  Some guy named Dave Crawley came by to visit me today and to take pictures.

He must be a huge fan. I think I might need some velvet rope, Norm, for these groupies I’m acquiring.

Unless they’re girl groupies.  Especially cute girl groupies. But don’t tell Sally. She’s getting a bit jealous from all the attention I’m getting lately.

It’s kind of hot.

[Wrangler Note]

Rex, All this attention must be going to your head because you forgot to mention you’ll be on KDKA tonight around 6:45. Now all your “adoring” fans can tune in from home, no velvet rope needed.

4.    All of this excitement and fame and hunting down evil-doers has left me with barely no time to ride my motorcycle.

What?

You don’t believe me? The proof is in the picture:

You can go ahead and make fun of my helmet, but then you should ask yourself how badly do you want to be handed your own arm?

Rawr.

[print_link]


Rex

A picture story, with words. By Rex. Part II.

… and it came to pass that some insane, deranged, death-wishing ninja stole the octopus from Rex’s jaws as he slept one night, thereby giving the hated, evil, and still hideously ugly Red Wings their mojo back, resulting in a devastating shut-out in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

The morning that Rex awoke to discover his octopus gone, he immediately destroyed three city blocks in anger.

As the dust settled, as the Mayor finished screaming at the AIP staff about “craters” and “fires” and “taxes” and “extinction” (whatever that means), Rex called Pageboy Norm to him and demanded not only the head of the person who stole the octopus, but also, if Norm had any designs on living another day, a new octopus.

In a burst of self-preservation, Pageboy Norm learned that Councilman Finnerty had a pet octopus that had been giving him the shifty-eyed “I will strangle you to death if you turn your back on me” look and generously offered it up to Rex in sacrifice to appease the angry Hockey Gods into the transfer of the Mojo.

This octopus was fatter, squishier, redder, and a whole lot more scared than the previous octopus.

Frightened and confused, the octopus reared its grotesque bulbous head in anger and stared into the eyes of the ferocious monster killer death lizard. The octopus bravely spat out, “Bite me, loser!”

Being a generous king, Rex obliged.

As he munched hungrily on the delicious octopus, savoring the suck of the moist suction cups, Rex addressed his people in a roaring voice.

“My people, hear my words and hear them well. Read my lips. Read the signals in the smoke shooting from my nostrils. If any of you dares to touch this octopus, this booby-trapped octopus, I might add, when I get my hands on you, you will beg for a speedier death than the octopus I just devoured. Step the heck off.”

And the Penguins went on to win Game 6 and Game 7 and Rex got lots of hot babes.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: , ,
Rex

Dinosaur, tranq thyself.

Okay, so listen. Norm is off today and he has left me with specific anti-destruction instructions that go something like this: “Don’t destroy anything in my absence or we will melt you down.”

Problem, SOMEONE STOLE MY FRICKIN’ OCTOPUS WHILE I WAS SLEEPING!

Are you kidding me?

This explains why the Pens lost and lost so miserably. Someone took the octopus and gave the Red Wings their mojo back.

Here are the people I’m currently stalking, believing they may have taken it:

1. “Dr.” Matt Lamanna. This might be wishful thinking on my part so that I finally have a legitimate excuse to give him the stretchy treatment. That’s when I grab your legs in one hand, your arms in the other and, well, you get the picture.

2. Whoever took my running shoes.

3. Scott Mervis. I will destroy him.

4. Barney. He just LOOKS like he would support a team that had a purple mascot. This also might be wishful thinking on my part so that I finally have a legitimate excuse to [redacted by Norm's boss].

5.  Marian Hossa. I WILL DESTROY HIM!

So, I’m going to be out and about for the remainder of the day trying to get to the bottom of this.

I need three volunteers:

  • One to find me a new octopus, dead or alive.
  • One to stand outside the Post-Gazette building and let me know if Scott Mervis shows the whites of his eyes.
  • One to tranq me when it finally really truly hits me that SOMEONE STOLE MY FRICKIN’ OCTOPUS.

RAWRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!


Rex

Wrangler, tranq thyself.

First, we are going to walk Norm through some deep breathing exercises so he doesn’t lose control and force me to tranq him.

That’s right, I am holding the tranq gun and Norm is the one about to stomp things.

[in]

[out]

Okay, we’re ready. Wait, no he’s not. He’s growling. Let’s start over.

[in]

[grrrrrrr]

NORM! Control yourself.  I have a lot of juice loaded into this gun.

[out]

[in]

[out]

Okay, so Norm is a little perturbed. (At his behest, I’m currently holding a tranq gun to Norm, so you clearly understand that “perturbed” is putting it mildly, right?)

The Three Rivers Arts Festival comes to town this weekend and featured is a group called the Black Keys. They are a duo and one of the humans, a guy named Patrick, said some not very nice things about AIP.

I’m going to whisper it for you, so Norm doesn’t hear it again. 

He referred to it as “pseudo” because he couldn’t understand why he was getting such great grades. And he also said –

Okay, that’s all I got.  Norm just destroyed the newspaper. I’ve never seen him like this. But on the bright side, I’m HOLDING THE TRANQ GUN! I’ve never felt such a rush of power. Now I understand why Norm gets that little mwah-hahaha going right before he shoots me.

Listen, me being a fantastic, fearful, fearsome, formidable, and all around butt-chomping awesome dinosaur, you don’t believe for one portion of one iota of one percentage of one millisecond that I would ever be associated with a school if it wasn’t top notch and something to be more than proud of, do you?

This Patrick guy, he’s very confused.

Now, as for the Post-Gazette reporter, Mr. Scott Mervis, I’m a little angry at him for including that portion of the interview in the article in the first place. It accomplished nothing but making Patrick look dumb, making AIP have to defend its stellar reputation, and making me get a map and realize that the Post-Gazette building is just right down the block. I mean, I’m looking down the Boulevard and look right there.  It’s just right there.

Norm seems to be calming down a bit now. He’s doing his deep breathing while burning the newspaper in the trash can.

Hey, I wonder what this button on the tranq gun does if you —

Oh, I am in so much trouble.

Sleep well, Norm.

Hey, you guys, if you see Scott Mervis exit the P-G building, look left, look right, open his eyes in stark terror, scream “Oh, My God! A DINOSAUR!” and then take off sprinting toward the Point with a handsome, fearsome T-Rex hot on his heels waving a stolen tranq gun.  Well, I don’t know anything about that.

Rawr.


Rex

Okay/Not Okay

Let’s talk about dinosaur jewelry.

Reader Heidi (she’s cute) brought VERAMEAT jewelry to Norm’s attention.

First, unfortunately, like you I initially thought meat was involved in this jewelry. It is not. Not a speck of meat to be found. You shouldn’t be allowed to have anything with the word meat in it if there isn’t actual meat involved. It’s very misleading.

OKAY!

However, there is this dinosaur necklace that is officially okay in my book:

Now that we’ve looked at the okay, let’s have a look-see at the really really never ever okay dinosaur jewelry.

NOT OKAY!

First thing wrong with this necklace is that the T-Rex is collared.  We’ve already talked about how that can never happen.

Second thing wrong is the arms look like nubs.  It’s insulting to my ferocious, crushing biceps.

Third and biggest thing wrong with this is that the necklace incorporates dinosaur poop.

That’s right. You can walk around with actual dinosaur feces strapped to your neck.

Dinosaurs are fearsome, brilliant scavengers.  Humans walk around with decorative poop around their necks and WE’RE the ones that almost went extinct?

Further proof of God’s horrible sense of humor.

Rawr.


Rex

And it was so.

… and it came to pass that Rex was very prophetic.

What did I tell you? You eat their terrified octopi, you take away their mojo.

One down. Three to go.

Also, suction cups are delicious and very sucky.  In a good way.

My willingness to eat one for the team, so to speak, has gained me some new lady admirers on twitter:

My responses are, from top to bottom:

  1. I love you, too. (Don’t tell Sally!)
  2. No. (Don’t tell Sally!)
  3. LIAR!

I would sooner kiss that [redacted by Norm] “Dr.” Matt Lamanna before I would ever reject a kiss from a babe. She must have me confused with another handsome dinosaur.

And then there’s this.

Yeah, you go poop out a penguin and then come back and tell me if “funny” is really the appropriate word to describe the experience.

Rawr.


Rex

A Picture Story, with words, by Rex

You might be surprised to know that not only am I incredibly handsome and astoundingly mathy, I’m also quite the author.  Here’s a little story for you, perhaps one you’ll want to share with your kids before you tuck them in tonight.

Once upon a time there was a dinosaur, the handsomest most feared dinosaur in all of the land.

We’ll call him Rex.

In addition to being the eyes, ears, and sharp pointy teeth of the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, Rex was also the Ruler of all the Nation of Steeler and the biggest Pittsburgh Penguins fan on the planet.  Literally the BIGGEST!

It came to pass that the evil, hated, and let’s be honest, quite ugly Red Wings came to town for the Stanley Cup finals after having won the first two games of the series — something that caused Rex to question his finely honed math abilities. But that’s another story.

The Red Wings had an unofficial mascot of sorts in that the fans would regularly toss an octopus onto the ice before or during a hockey game.

Yes, kiddies, an octopus. Is their mascot. Because they are dumb.

But that’s another story.

No, it’s not! It’s THIS story! They’re very very dumb.

Rex, being fearsome, decided to show the People of the Land of Octopi what’s what.

He went to his pageboy Norm and demanded that an octopus be brought to him or heads would be chomped off and spit into the Mon.

Luckily for Pageboy Norm, his friend Jim Lokay from KDKA-TV had an octopus. On his person. This raises questions, but that’s another story.

The octopus was terrified when it saw Rex, with eyes that pleaded please don’t eat me. I can’t help it if my people are stupid!

Rex ignored the pleas of the doomed octopus and gave it a nice squeeze to make sure it was squishy enough.

It was.

And Rex ate the CRAP out of that octopus, the Penguins won the next four games, Rex was regularly smooched by pretty girls and they lived happily ever after.

The end.

Rawr.


Rex

Parenthetically speaking

Yours truly was mentioned in the Post-Gazette’s article about HockeyTown Cafe:

The fee had proved too much for Michigan State University and the NCAA, which decided against decorating the statue during the Final Four basketball tournament at Ford Field. At the time, news reports had the fee at $25,000. (In Pittsbugh, the Art Institute of Pittsburgh has created a Penguins jersey that’s fit for a T-rex, and it adorns the dinosaur statue near the building’s entrance on the Boulevard of the Allies.)

First, I’m not even going to mention that they misspelled the name of our city. Whoops. I guess I just mentioned that they misspelled the name of our city when they misspelled the name of our city.

Not that I’m mentioning it.

Second, wow, I’m getting very famous and I love it very much. Hopefully next time they can actually mention my name.

And maybe spell it right when they do it.  Let me help. C-R-E-A-T-I-O-N   R-E-X   I-S   T-H-E   K-I-N-G   O-F   P-I-T-T-S-B-U-R-G-H.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: