Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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


It’s a football night in Pittsburgh!

I don’t have much time to write. As soon as I find my Terrible Towel, I’m walking down to the Point with a bunch of AIP students who invited me along to watch the free concert with Tim McGraw and the Black Eyed Peas.  I have the sneaking suspicion the only reason they invited me is because they hope I’ll give them turns atop my shoulders so they can have a better view. I’m okay with this.  As long as they’re babes.  And not Sally.  She’s ENORMOUS.

Then we’re heading over the watch the Steelers game at Heinz Field.  I don’t have a ticket, but I don’t see how that is going to stop me from getting in to watch the game. I mean really. Have you SEEN me?!

I’m going to take Jake with me because I think it would be a great learning experience for him to see how I finesse the security guards to let us through the gate and by “finesse” I mean [redacted by Norm].

I bet you $87 million that Norm redacts that.



Twitter time!

As you know, I often lurk around twitter just to be keep tabs on what Norm says about me, to be sure I don’t need to terrorize any people that are making jokes about my ferocious and enormous arms, and to see what the babes are saying about me.

Usually they’re saying, “OMG. I LOVE REX! HE TOTALLY WINKED AT ME TODAY!”

Don’t tell Sally.

Today, I saw this:

That is the most hilarious joke I have heard all week, no, all year, no, IN THE HISTORY OF TIME!  What an unexpected punchline!

Here’s a joke I just wrote: What lives now, has dog poo for brains, and goes “OW-OW-OW-OW!”?  Whoever wrote that joke, getting the stretchy treatment from me.

Also, here’s what Norm had to tweet about:

I don’t know ANYTHING about that, Norm.


Finally, I just recently discovered that my hero Dr. Sheldon Cooper is on twitter!

I don’t need to click on the link to know that it will probably take you right here to my blog.

It’s nice to be appreciated for the genius that I am.



I rawr for ice cream!

Today at AIP the Culinary Recipe Development Club, or as I call them MY BEST FRIENDS, are hosting a sundae bar in the student lounge.

The bar is available from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. and again from 3:30 to 5:00 p.m.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be eating delicious sundaes with MY BEST FRIENDS from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. and again from 3:30 to 5:00 p.m.

Sure I’ll get brain-freeze painful enough to cripple a brontosaurus, but still, worth it.

Also, speaking of dinosaurs and ice cream, I recently learned that my old girlfriend Gertie opened up her own ice cream store at Disney.

It was news to me, but not so much to Sally who said, “Well, that explains why she’s so fat.”

Sally + jealousy = mrowr hisssss



Noms. And I don’t mean kittehs.

Yesterday evening I was mentoring Jake in table manners (what? I’m a classy gentledino!) when this happened:

Jake: This is stupid.

Rex: What?

Jake: You teaching me table manners when we have no table and no actual food. What kind of mentor are you?

Rex: Um, the best mentor in the world.

Jake: [sigh] Fine. Tell me again about how to properly eat carcass without this rude “snarfing” you speak of.

Rex: As the best mentor in the world, I’ll do better than tell you.  I will show you.  Follow me.

Jake: Where are we going?!  Are we going to steal the Stanley Cup finally?!  I brought my camera and everything!

Rex: No, and shut up about that.  I told you I [wink] have no intention [wink] of stealing [wink wink] the Stanley Cup! We’re going upstairs to the culinary department here at AIP.

Jake: Wait. There’s a culinary department here?!  I thought this was an art school.

Rex: As the greatest mentor in the world, allow me to inform you that cooking is an art form. Let’s go.

That’s how it all started.

Here’s a picture Jake took of me sneaking into the culinary department.

What I don’t have pictures of are Jake and I snarfing down every morsel of food in the culinary department, of the faces of the staff when they saw we had snarfed every morsel of food in the culinary department, of the face of Norm when he was told by the staff that we snarfed every morsel of food in the culinary department, or of Norm giving me a finger-wagging “You are in Big Trouble, mister!” lecture before tranqing my classy dino butt.

And I certainly don’t have a picture of the blueprints of Mario Lemieux’s house showing ways to access the room in which Sidney keeps the Stanley Cup. I don’t have that AT ALL.



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Here’s another headline that gave me pause:

After years spent hunting for the buried remains of prehistoric animals, a Canadian paleontologist now plans to manipulate chicken embryos to show he can create a dinosaur.

Oh, Canada. You are so cute with your “ehs” and your “Mounties” and your “giant expanses of nothingness”.  But this could really make people take you seriously as a country! Turning a chicken into a dinosaur!

The research is funded by the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada, the Canada Research Chairs program and National Geographic.

Wow. And you got funded, too. This is all very very impressive, Canada.

Horner recently wrote a book entitled “How to Build A Dinosaur,” in which he refers to the embryo experiment as part of a quest to create a “chickenosaurus.”

Chickenosaurus. Once I was done laughing my tail off, here’s a rendering of a chickenosaurus I found:

Yeah, this won’t end badly.  Don’t come crying to me to protect you when the giant chickens come to peck your heads off.



The best thing I will show you this week. Unless I do more art.

This right here is my 101st post. Here are some other things that I have 101 of …

Just kidding!

I don’t have 101 of anything (except Norm’s socks because his new Puma socks could not be ignored), but I do have one thing I would like to share with you today.

There is a web comic strip called Dinosaur Comics by Ryan North and someone went an did a mashup of random twitter tweets with a random second panel from the strip and I have to tell you, it’s brilliant.  Nine times out of ten, the dinosaur has a comeback for the tweet that has just so much zzzzzing! to it.

Here are some of my faves that came up when I refreshed the page:

Try it and send me the most awesome ones that come up for you so I can use them to wallpaper Norm’s apartment. I really think it would add a nice touch and would give him something nice to read while he hunts for socks.


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Art. By Rex. Breathtaking.

Grab your medicinal inhalers or brown paper bags and have a seat because Rex is about to take your breath away.

Norm gave me some new art supplies! I assume it is because he recognized my talent and not so much because I threatened to [redacted by Norm] him.

And that’s the story of how I got my hands on something other than a Sharpie.

First up is a painting I did of me chasing some cavemen back in prehistoric times.

Notice that I’ve already killed one.  Note the blood on my lips. Note how stupid cavemen look when they run. That little splotch of a caveman in the middle is actually Blor’s kid Blor. I bet for all the times I’ve talked about him, you were dying to know what he looked like. Now you know. I’ll sell this to you for $15,000 or to a museum for $150,000 or to a babe in exchange for a walk along the North Shore while you hold my hand and DON’T TELL SALLY!

Next up, my painting of a Steelers game:

Note the attention I paid to getting just the right shape to the football. It wasn’t easy to do that so perfectly, trust me. Also, you can clearly distinguish between who is a Steeler and who is a Patriot can you not? I will sell this to you … no, never mind. I am going to save this for when we win the Super Bowl and I will have Ben Roethlisberger autograph it and THEN I will sell it for 75 million dollars. This is a good plan.

Finally, I took the time to paint my love Sally for you:

Listen, I realize she is stunning, but if you don’t stop drooling over her I will have no recourse other than to hunt you down and de-limb you. Back off. She’s mine. I will sell this … uh, wait … hang on. I got an email from Sally. Whoa. She’s not happy about this painting. She wants to know why she has a giant mustache. You know what? I don’t think Sally understands fine art.


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Lunch. By Rex.

The other day a student came up to me and said, “Rex, being that you are the most handsome and awesome dinosaur in all the Earth, I imagine you would be able to find out where the quesadilla maker is on campus.”

First part of that sentence? Truer words have never been spoken.

Second part of that sentence? Huh?

This was news to me that there are rumors floating around campus of a quesadilla maker somewhere in the building.

So I asked Norm, “Hey, jerk, what’s this about there being a quesadilla maker on campus?”

Norm informed me that Paul Pezich, the Most High Muckety Muck and Supreme Emperor of Finance here at AIP, was told to order a quesadilla maker, so he did.

Problem is no one seems to be sure who requested it and now it sits and no one is using it because they haven’t bothered to bring in the necessary ingredients to make a quesadilla.

Until now.

Dear staff and students at AIP, there will be octopus and possum quesadillas available for sale tomorrow, prepared specially by yours truly, Rex. A side of mushed sheep entrails can also be purchased for just a small additional cost.  You don’t have to ask where the sale will be held, just follow the sounds of the screaming octopi.

Also, staff at AIP, if you don’t use the quesadilla maker, you don’t get to raise a stink about it when someone finally does.

Speaking of stink … these quesadillas are delicious.


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I forgot to mention that Norm took a long weekend last week in order to go to a bachelor party for his friend.

I wasn’t invited.

But since when has that stopped me?  Never. It didn’t stop me this time and it won’t stop me when I show up at the G-20 meeting just to spite the mayor and his ridiculous list of don’ts (Don’t #565: “Don’t put the moves on the President of France’s wife.” Come on, have you SEEN his wife?! Don’t tell Sally!).

Here’s a picture I managed to sneak into before Norm realized I had followed him to the super secret lame-o location.

Not Vegas. Not Atlantic City. Not even New York City.

THE FOREST?! What is this? A LARP bachelor party?

Are they going to act out Lord of the Rings? Are they going to don elvish costumes and say things like “Pip Pip, Merry!”?

I don’t know. I got the snot tranqed out of me before I could figure it out. But I do know this, I would make one butt-kicking Dark Lord Sauron.


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The day you’ve been waiting for.

Remember when I wrote that I asked Norm for some art supplies because I had a hunch that after 65 million years of living, I’m probably a fantastic artist?

To Norm “art supplies” apparently meant a tablet of paper and a Sharpie.

It doesn’t matter. He could have given me a piece of cardboard and a broken white crayon and I still would have created a masterpiece called Snow. Talent like this isn’t limited by mere art tools.

My point here is that 1. Norm is cheap and 2. I AM a fantastic artist!

First up, this is my portrait of Norm, my wrangler, my handler, my sometimes friend, and my carcass bringer:

Note the attention to detail. Norm has clearly just unloaded his tranq gun into me and is laughing with evil glee as I fall slowly to the ground. Note his true-to-life nose. Note his dorky hat. I call this one “Norm”. You can buy the original from me for $6,500 or a dead sheep. Whatever you’ve got.

Here’s one I drew of the Mayor reading me the list of things I am not allowed to do during G-20:

You’ll note from my expression that I zoned out somewhere between number 1 and the end of number 1. Also, note the dorky hat. I’m not selling this one because I think “Selling dorky pictures of me” was number 622 on the list. I call this one “Blah Blah Blah”.

Here I am swimming in the river.

Note I’m not wearing any clothes. Note my incredible biceps. I’m selling this one for $7,000, unless you are a babe, then you can have it for free as long as you DON’T TELL SALLY!

Speaking of babes, here is my drawing of some adoring fans seeking pictures and autographs:

Note the babe and the look of adoration in her eyes. Note that I am considering disposing of her boyfriend with the dorky hair.  Note my incredible biceps.

Now that I’ve finally shared my talent with the world, I’m going to talk to Norm about holding a show at the gallery here at AIP. If these sketches alone don’t convince him of my talent, then this one surely will:

I call it “Cow”. I know. It’s terrifying how awesome I am.


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