Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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

Rex

Erin go away and stop dressing me so ridiculously.

Zeus’s lightning bolts, readers!

I woke up this morning and, well … bagpipes?  REALLY?

At first I assumed the students were playing a joke on me because this is Friday the 13th and if you read on down, you’ll see what Friday the 13th means to a dinosaur.

But this is not a joke.  This is a school-approved Saint Patrick’s Day costume.

I have some things I’d like to say about this:

1.  Who is in charge of costuming me?  I’d like a name; I’d like a location and I’d like to show that person my teeth.

2.  Does my colossal mouth filled with those aforementioned sharp teeth look like it has any chance at all of puckering around that tiny bagpipe mouth piece?  I don’t think so.  Next year, just give me some shiny beads to throw to the ladies.

3.  I’m pretty sure the bagpipes are supposed to go UNDER my arm.  First person to make a “ha-ha.  T-rexes have tiny little useless arms” joke is also going to get up close and personal with my sharp teeth.

4.  It was 20 degrees last night.  You think I could have had a scarf or something?  I’m hoarse this morning and my rawr sounds like a little kitten purring at a piece of lint.  Not very useful when I need to let the students know I don’t appreciate being leaned on.  I need a thunder-filled RAWR for that if I want to make them pee their pants.  That’s just funny.

5. I can’t be sure, but I think I’m really holding a faded Italian flag.

6.  The city’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade is coming right past me tomorrow so I’ll have the best seat on the street.  My flickr stream is going to be off the hook.  A note:  If you climb up on me to get a better view of the parade, I cannot be held responsible for the injuries you suffer when my dinosaur instincts kick in and whisper to me that you smell just like a juicy hadrosaur. You’ve been warned.

Rawr.


Rex

Perfect Specimen

So this guy walks up to me last week, looks me up and looks me down .  Scowls.  Then up and down again.  I can see the gears moving in his tiny brain.  He starts muttering something about me not being “scientifically accurate” or something.  Starts pointing out my flaws like somebody said, “Look at that dinosaur.  Please list his flaws.”

“His arms are too big, his head is out of proportion with his body, he has an incorrect number of teeth, and he is about 35 feet too short and six tons too light.  Also, he should be in Utah.”

Come to find out later it was Matt Lamanna from the Carnegie Museum of Natural History and he’s supposed to be some kind of “dinosaur expert.”

This is me, holding up two clawed hands to make a big fat W.  Whatever!  I am a work of art.  A specimen, if you will.  I am perfect just as I am no matter what the dude with seven PhDs will tell you or publish in a scientific journal.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species:
Rex

Open Wide.

There is apparently an open house happening today at AIP as evidenced by the hustle and bustle of the staff.

If you go, be sure to stop by and say hi to your good friend Rex.  I’ll be that dinosaur in the corner making polite conversation and sipping a cappuccino whilst I nibble on the bloody carcass of a pterodactyl.

Don’t tell PETA.  I think the pterodactyl is on their protected list or their cherished list or their list of Things We’ll Get Naked For.

But it’s on my list of Delicious Things That Are Hard To Catch.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species:
Rex

Rawr.

A dinosaur.  With a blog.

Forget Web 2.0.  This is Web 2,000,000 BC right here.

Stick around kids.  It’s about to get all prehistoric up in here.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: