Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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


Okay/Not Okay

Today’s edition of Okay/Not Okay covers baking products.


These are adorable little cookie cutters you can use for your child’s dinosaur-themed birthday party (as if there was any other kind).


Norm sent me this link wondering if “Dr.” Matt Lamanna had anything to do with this product and I must say, I’m pretty sure Norm was laughing hysterically as he sent the email.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my life and that includes the time that the cavemen managed to saddle me and ride me like a horse.

Get your tranq gun powered up, Norm, because there’s about to be some destroying happening up in here.




I went to go for a run today (NOT TO CHASE AND EAT ANYTHING, NORM! Just a run. A nice jog down the street in the sunshine, you paranoid [redacted by Norm]) to keep my heart strong and healthy. You don’t get to live to be 65-million-years-old by not taking care of yourself.

Ten square meals a day consisting of the five food groups (meat, meat, meat, meat and MEAT!) and a good jog, preferably after some fleeing meat, is my secret, if you’re wondering.

However, when I went to look for my running shoes this morning, they were missing.

I can’t imagine who would be brave enough to steal a dinosaur’s shoes, because that goes against the human being’s survival instinct. Therefore, I must assume that I misplaced them.

I’ve looked everywhere. Sally hasn’t seen them and gave me a huge lecture about keeping track of my own [redacted by Norm], a lecture so intense I tried to sprout wings and fly.

I thoroughly trashed Norm’s place and they’re not there.

Here’s a picture taken from my slide show.

Let me know if you see them. Or if you took them … I’ll give you a ten-second head start before I give chase, you succulent piece of meat.



Best. Costume. EVER!

Humans are ridiculous with their overuse of “Best EVER!”

Best coffee EVER!

Best show EVER!

Best headline EVER!

Best whatever EVER!

And it’s never ever the best ever.  EVER!

Until now.

Humans, I give you the Best. Costume. EVER!

I hope Matt Lamanna gets this for Halloween.  If not, I suppose I can just kidnap him and carry him around in a little cage for a bit.

Best. Meal. EVER!


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Today is Tax Day for you humans and from what I’ve been able to gather from my human friends and from the students who stop to chat with me is that Tax Day makes people openly weep.

They mentioned something about “pillaging” and “plundering” and “I’ll be eating Ramen for six months, it looks like.”

You humans are very odd sometimes.

Because I care about you and I don’t want you to be sad, we should associate Tax Day with something other than weeping, pillaging, plundering, and ramen, don’t you agree?  So how about from now on Tax Day is not only Tax Day it is also Play A Practical Joke On Norm But Don’t Tell Him Rex Put You Up To It Otherwise Norm Will Tranq Rex Into Next Week Day.

I suggest you do any of the following if you see my handler:

  • Steal his MacBook and give it to me because I am forced to use a PC. Windows makes me rawry.
  • Replace his MacBook with an HP and make sure Vista is installed on it.
  • Use his avatar to comment on other sites, especially any “I Love Barney The Purple Dinosaur” forums.
  • If he’s carrying a tranq gun and has kind of a mad look on his face, trip him. He’ll love that. So funny.

There, now Tax Day isn’t so terrible, is it? In fact, it’s kind of awesome now.


era: Cenozoic . species:

In remembrance of Norm.

Remember that thing I said about Easter coming up and that if I even smelled bunny ears I was going to get teethy about it?

And remember how Norm is my handler who gets to pick my holiday costumes?

And remember how Norm has a tranq gun?

And remember how I really really really really didn’t want bunny ears?

I woke up today and I’m sporting some bunny ears.  How about that?


Hey, remember Norm?

I hope you do, because you may never see that guy again, at least not after you see him running down the Boulevard of the Allies screaming in terror and blindly firing tranq darts at the roaring mad tyrannosaurus rex that’s hot on his heels with giant teeth a-snapping and giant bunny ears a-flopping.


[Wrangler Responds]

Rex, I just wanted to let you know your mom sent me an email this afternoon. She’s wanted to let me know she is happy you are doing so well in the big city (and to say you should call more often). Anyway she also wrote in to tell me how happy she is to see you looking so cute, and that you used to look sooo cute when you were just a hatchling. Because your mom is so great she forwarded me this photo. Happy Easter!



Rex Responds

Reader Snuffelupagus (I’m guessing that’s not his/her real name) commented on this post and wrote:

Whether “Dr.” Matt Lamanna designed that awful Godzilla-esque doll or not, I’m sure he’d be very disappointed that Rex forget to italicize Triceratops. But maybe this will answer a long-standing question for me – while it’s scientific convention to italicize the genus and species names of organisms, do the organisms themselves do so? Or even care?

To expand on that thought, sort of like in the T.S. Eliot poem, do you identify with the name that scientists have given you or do you have your own secret name for yourself?

First, no, we dinosaurs are not big on italicizing our genus and species because that’s a human rule and dinosaurs are not ruled by human rules.  We follow Dinosaur Rules.

Secondly, I love the name Tyrannosaurus Rex because it means “Tyrant Lizard” and it sounds scary and big and fascinating and teethy.  Everything that I am.

On the other hand, my friend Sophie is a Barapasaurus and boy does she hate that name because every time we say it, we burp.  Drives her crazy.

Finally, do I have a secret name for myself? Other than Rex, I don’t. But I do have a nickname for my girlfriend Sally and that is Ponn Farr.

Google it.



A Rex Quiz

Who said it?

“This is ampiocoelias, this bruhathakayosaurus, puertasaurus, argentinosaurus, turiasaurus and this one is argyrosaurus.”

A.  Sally, showing me pictures of all of her former boyfriends. None of whom had a blog. Pbthh!

B.  “Dr.” Matt Lamanna, just making up crap, as usual. “Oooh, look, a Doofusaurus!”

C.  Norm, showing me dinosaurs that he can replace me with if I don’t behave myself more often. Pbthh!

D.  A five-year-old human kid from Czechoslovakia named Petr.

Of course the answer is D!

A five-year-old boy showed a formidable memory and pronunciation in a palentology test on Tuesday when he managed to distinguish 69 dinosaur species, to the astonishment of the examiners from an agency for national records registration.

If I could adopt a human child, this is the child I would adopt.

Also, I bet he would treat me better than Norm because I bet Petr would understand that sometimes, it’s okay for a dinosaur to crave zoo animals.



If I tweeted.

You know about twitter, right?

Twitter is awesome because you get sort of up- close and personal with famous people like John Mayer and Soleil Moon Frye. Punky Brewster in the house!

I don’t twitter because Norm is afraid of what I’d say. He gets to approve everything I write on here before it is posted, but on twitter I would be free to just go ahead and call Dorothy the Dinosaur a [redacted by Norm] with a [redacted by Norm] who always [redacted by Norm].

See? I bet Norm just took all the good stuff out again.

If we dinosaurs had had twitter when we were growing up we could have tweeted things like “the cave people just tried to make a square wheel. I’m not even kidding.” or “hey, how do you know if woolly mammoth meat has gone bad? It is okay to eat once it turns green?” or “do you guys see that giant ball of fire in the sky that’s heading this way?”

But if I did tweet on twitter, here’s what I would have twat (?):

CreationRex Lunchtime. Chasing some kids down Smithfield. They’re slow so I’m hopping on one foot to make the chase more interesting for me.

CreationRex Eating. But not the kids. They ducked into Macy’s and I get so tired of those pushy perfume salesgirls. NO I DON’T WANT TO SMELL LIKE A SUNSET!

CreationRex NOT putting whipped cream in Norm’s shoes.

CreationRex Uh oh. Sally found out about my blog. She’s not happy.

CreationRex Soleil Moon Frye is a cutie pie. Don’t tell Sally!

CreationRex Taking pictures with some tourists. They’re behaving and have promised me a treat. Hope it’s a bacon-wrapped velociraptor.

CreationRex Attention humans: An apple is NOT A TREAT!

CreationRex NOT crushing Dr. Matt Lamanna’s car like a hadrosaur pancake.

CreationRex Picking windshield glass shards out of my foot.

CreationRex Heard Norm is looking for me. Have you seen him? Does he look mad? Is there whipped cream oozing out of his shoes? I don’t know anything about that.

CreationRex Eating noms. And yes, by “noms” I mean “kittehs”. Yum.

CreationRex Calm down. I didn’t really eat a kitten. Today.



Colored pencils?!?! EEK!

Today is April Fools Day, so of course I’ve been spending this beautiful day doing two things, avoiding the RickRoll and chasing the art students down the Boulevard of the Allies every chance I can.  Not only do they scare easily, as I have mentioned previously, but you should see how hilarious it is when they start throwing art supplies at me in a desperate attempt to slow me down.  Oooooh, a fistful of colored pencils!  SCARY!

I usually stop chasing them once I smell the pee.

Kids.  So cute.

So, I saw this headline today:

“The way of the dinosaur”?  What does that mean?  That newspapers are going to become bigger?  That newspapers are going to start stomping bad guys?  That newspapers are going to get smarter and more fascinating?  That newspapers are going to start chasing art students down the block until they pee their pants?

I bet that headline was an April Fool’s joke.   Only explanation.

I’d love to write more today, but as you can see by this awesome photo I just took, I have spied a group of art students heading for the exit.  And they look slow.


P.S.  You’ve just been RexRolled.


Rex’s Call

Here in Pittsburgh we have an advice columnist named Cat and she’s incredibly cute (don’t tell Sally!) and wears a hat that can only be described as jaunty.


Cat gives advice each week from the human perspective, but I thought perhaps you would like to see advice on the same issues from the dinosaur perspective, because this dinosaur’s perspective is 65 million years wise.  You might learn something.

The first question from today’s column:

DEAR CAT: My office has an open floor plan, with four cubicles positioned so that when we’re working, our backs are to each other. I get along well with my cubical mates, but two of them have a habit of pulling out nail clippers and trimming their nails as they sit at their desks! The office is relatively quiet, and I can hear every snip, snip, snip. Yuck! Am I being prudish? If not, can I tell them to please take care of personal grooming in the restroom or at home? Perhaps I should offer them nail polish next time? If it matters, I’m a woman, and they are men. Would your answer be different if I were a man and they were women? — CLIPPED NERVES

REX’S CALL: You don’t specify if they’re clipping their fingernails or their toenails.  That matters. If they are clipping their fingernails, while that is a bit yucky, it’s not that terrible.  Maybe they’re typing and they realized their nails are making clicky sounds.  I can’t tell you how insane the sound of my claws clicking on the keyboard makes me.  If however they are removing their shoes and socks and are sending sharp shards of ooze-encrusted toenail matter piercing through the air, then that is disgusting and classless and you should stomp them good then tear them limb from limb.  Survival of the classiest.

And the second question:

DEAR CAT: Three years ago, after beginning a long-distance relationship, I moved here to be with a man I fell in love with. When I arrived he was cold and uncommunicative, and over the next two years I learned he had had multiple extracurricular relationships before I arrived (some physical, some merely e-mail). He had said we’d be exclusive, and I kept up my end of the bargain, but he has not. He has never done anything special for me, not even a holiday card, just a text message. I’ve had some bad luck: car accidents, falling out with my family, a job loss (I’m still unemployed), and we agreed to stop our relationship so I can concentrate on getting back on my feet. The problem is, I can’t stop being angry with him and blaming him for this. I have no friends here, no support system, and I can’t move because I am financially ruined. I think of his big house, secure job, loving children and his wealth. I feel like I have been lied to and used. I need to move forward. Any advice would be great. — NEAR RUIN

REX’S CALL: I can fix this and make you feel better, too.  Here’s how.  What you need to do, Ruin, is go to this man’s house and stomp him good then steal all of his valuables and send him a text that says, “That’s the dinosaur way.”  Let me know if you need help.


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