Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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

Rex

Going there.

Well, looky what I found tucked inside of my laptop (HUGE laptop, by the way) this morning when I woke up.

Please recall that I already roughly translated that from Stupid B.C. to English for you last week when I wrote:

That won’t last, because as the caveman saying goes, “Bleeckie mah foo moo moo skee gah!” which roughly translates into, “Mock dinosaur and die painfully.”

So I believed this to be a note from that kid I DESTROYED in the snowball fight last week; however, upon further research into Stupid B.C., I have learned that I slightly mistranslated and “Bleeckie mah foo moo moo skee gah” actually translates into “Stupid dinosaur, it’s SO on.”

Which is EXACTLY what Blor’s kid Blor used to say to me before he would try something dumb, like tethering boulders to my tail.

This carefully placed note leads to me to believe that Blor’s kid Blor, somehow, is still alive.

And hell bent on revenge.

And to Blor’s kid Blor I say, “Woo foo limbee cheechie ma ma.”

Oh, yes, I went there.

Rawr.


Rex

Great Adventures with Rex, Leo and Leonis.

My goodness.  I take one little week off from my blog and oh, my God, the MOURNING.

The calls, the emails, the WHY, REX, WHY?!!?s.

Can’t a dino have a little life outside his famous, well-written, fantastically trafficked, future award-winning blog?

According to Norm, I can’t, and he was not too happy to discover that I had disappeared.

I’m sorry.  It’s cold here in Pittsburgh.  I’m cold-blooded.  That means however cold you are at any particular point in time, I am thousands and thousands of hundreds of millions times colder (and cooler) than you.  I’m not exaggerating.

I got sick of the cold and so I decided to find out where in the world Leo and Leonis were having their latest adventure.  And once I found out that they were still in sunny California, I headed out West.

Dear Dollar Bank, I have no idea where Leo and Leonis are.  Swear to Zeus and all the stupid caveman gods.

Anyway, we spent some time on the beaches of California surfing and being warm.  Leo and Leonis showed me around Venice Beach and I took a bus tour that visited the stars’ homes.

You can imagine my anger when I discovered that the tour only brought you to look at the OUTSIDE of the stars’ homes.  That was ridiculous because that’s like accepting money for a movie rental and then only giving the customer the box the movie came in.  “Look at the cute little chipmunks.  They sing and are adorable.  Here’s the DVD box.  Now give me four dollars and go home to imagine what the movie is like.”

I understandably got angry and maybe a bit destructive and I may or may not be wanted in California for what I did to the gate leading to Jennifer Aniston’s home.

With California conquered, we headed to Arizona for a nice dry heat and some swimming in the tallest fountain in the world.  That’s something to add to our travel scrapbooks.  Here we are enjoying the sunny day:

But how were we to know that swimming is not allowed and that the tourists would freak so far out at the sight of two lions and a dinosaur taking a cooling swim?  And how were we to know that Norm had basically put an APB out on my whereabouts?  And how were we to know how accurate a shot that fat, old security guard would be with a tranq gun?

So, I woke up back here at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, a bit sunburned, very groggy, and POSSIBLY sporting a new tattoo.

As for Leo and Leonis, the last I saw of them, they were making a break for it, swimming like mad for the bank of the fountain pool with tranq darts branded with “Dollar Bank” sticking out of their necks.

But I’m back and I’m happy to see that it is not as cold as it was when I left.  All in all, my time out West was one of the greatest adventures of my life and that includes the time I invented Caveman Ball.

Blor’s kid Blor was NOT a very good ball.

Also, chipmunks are delicious.

Rawr.


Rex

I don’t joke about snowball fights.

Apparently, some of the new students here at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh didn’t take my warning too seriously when I hinted that I would be, out of love, starting a snowball war once they arrived on campus after winter break, because many many of them came woefully unprepared to counterattack once the hail of spherical ice missiles began.

Someone come get all these freshmen who lie unconscious in the snow on the Boulevard.  But watch where you step because there are many sets of eyeglasses littered around their frozen bodies.  And good luck figuring out which backpack belongs to who because I sent one flying literally over 50 feet. And his backpack probably 50 feet beyond.

Now, the students who did come prepared were the students who have been studying here for some time.  The veterans who know their good friend Rex well and they know I don’t joke about snowball fights.

Their leader, Matt, tried valiantly to mount an offense against me, and psst, here’s a secret: I let him think he had the upper hand for a bit.  Just to mess with him.

Here he is approaching the front lines of the battle.

Note the “bring it” expression on my face, and note the poor girl running from me trying in vain to cover her head from incoming snowballs.  She didn’t last long.

Here’s Matt on his first approach.

He’s laughing and mocking me. That won’t last, because as the caveman saying goes, “Bleeckie mah foo moo moo skee gah!” which roughly translates into, “Mock dinosaur and die painfully.”

Note how I’m pretending not to even notice he’s standing there.  I’m just looking over his head like I don’t have a care in the world or a snowball aimed at my neck. This is the part where I was letting him think he was winning.  They’re so cute and reckless when they think they’re winning.

I think I may have taken one or two snowballs to the body and one “Good luck fighting back with those tiny useless arms, you stupid dino” before I finally decided it was time to show Matt what my tiny useless arms are capable of:

That’s right.  One snowball the size of a globe, aimed exactly right and you too could send a 175 lb. human up five stories to the top of the nearby parking garage where hopefully, some kind soul will help him out from underneath that avalanche of awesomeness.

Rawr.


Rex

They’re BAAAA-ACK!

I love Christmas and I always have, ever since that night that giant bright star appeared in the sky and we dinos thought it was an asteroid zooming toward Earth and boy, did we look silly trying to outrun it.

Christmas is wonderful.  Winter break, however, is not.

I hate it because it gets so quiet here when the students go home to their families.  No one to stop and chat with me, other than AIP staff, and I don’t need to tell you what a giant box of fun they are.

I’ve suffered through weeks of being bored and having no one to terrorize save for the occasional downtown accountant or lawyer, which, Norm, if you get a letter from Michaels, Michaels, Michaels, Michaels, and Smith LLC informing you of a lawsuit for personal injury, I don’t know anything about that, but ask them if LLC stands for Lame Losers who Cry.

Today, the students began arriving back at AIP to get ready for orientation tomorrow night and classes which begins on Monday, and boy, I have missed those little rascals and OH BOY, am I ready to greet them with love, affection, and spheres of icy death.

Remember kids, when you walk by me tomorrow and I pick the backpack off of your back with one well-aimed, 100 mph snowball, I did it with love.

I believe you humans have an expression, do you not? It’s on like Donkey Kong.

Rawr.


Rex

Bring it, blogger.

This is a Rex Christmas card built by a six-year-old.

Except that it’s actually a Rex card built by a 35-year-old lady blogger.

I assume she is visually impaired because, first, my face is split open and second, my arm is falling off and third, my legs aren’t supporting my weight which is making me appear to be doing a split, and I haven’t done a split since my Broadway days, and fourth, I’m not even going to discuss the tape on my head, and fifth, I sure AM going to address her snide comment about my arms being unable to support the weight of a Terrible Towel, because it sounds very much like she insulted my massive arms.

I’m going to assume she’s just jealous because my blog is eons better than hers and because a baby giraffe (mmmmm) could build a better Rex than she can.

Norm told me to be nice because “you do not want to get on her bad side,” and I replied, “Buddy, I’m not on her bad side, SHE IS ON MINE.”

Rawr!


Rex

Rex Remembers Again.

Tonight is the Portraits of the Past Gala here at AIP and yours truly is not only going to be there, daintily snacking on pterodactyl munchies (which is what I assume they serve at “galas”), but I’m also sure to be featured in some of those historical AIP photos.

For instance, here I am a few decades ago checking out the students doing sketches of each other:

aiphistory1

You can’t really tell, but in that picture, I was sitting for a portrait being sketched by a total babe.  And I wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Don’t tell Sally.  It was ART.

Here I am sneaking up on AIP’s founder (left, holding the hat):

aiphistory3

If you think his screaming was funny, you should have seen him throw that hat at me in stark terror before he realized it was me.

That was a fun day and since it was before AIP invested in a stockroom of highly powered tranq guns, I basically got away with it.

But here’s something I didn’t get away with.  Admiring the lovely ladies while they worked so hard in class:

aiphistory2

All I did was breathe a little and it shook the windows, maybe exploded a few of them and then all this crazy screaming and throwing hats and pencils and purses at me.

Excuse me for breathing, ladies!  They did eventually forgive me when I agreed to be a sketch subject for one of their classes.

Again without my clothes.  It’s the story of my life.

In honor of this event celebrating our past, I decided to dress for the occasion and I dug up some of my oldest accessories:

rex-past-wide

I can see you’re rendered absolutely speechless by the sheer magnitude of my dapper-ness, but just wait until you see me in my tuxedo tonight.

Also, completely unrelated, do you happen to know the best way to get sheep blood out of a tuxedo?

Rawr.


Rex

Throwing signs, yo.

The other day was Blue Beanie Day here at AIP, and if you’re thinking the beanies had little propellers atop them, like me, you would have been very disappointed.

Blue Beanie Day is celebrated in support of “web standards and accessibility” and to “fight Web Standards Apathy.”

I’m not going to lie to you.  I don’t know what any of that means.

But what I do know is that these kids made me a giant blue beanie and asked me to make the HTML sign with them.  You know, THIS sign: <  >, so I of course obliged them.  Check us out:

bluebeanie

I’m going to start a movement to fight Dinosaur Apathy because look at all those cute babes and I’ve got A GUY holding my hand.

Rawr.


era: Prehistoric . species:
Rex

Fetch, Spike!

111909sereno.jpg_20091119_11_46_18_16#h=280&w=400

While reading the morning news, I came across an article from the Chicago Sun Times discussing that paleontologists, those quacks, have discovered that there were giant crocodiles that once roamed Earth, walked like dogs, and supposedly ate dinosaurs.

I’ll give you a moment to laugh at that.

Done?

Okay.  Read:

“We have crocs that ate plants and galloped and ate dinosaurs and were flat as a board,” said Sereno, who unearthed the skeletons over the last several years in the Sahara.

The crocs include:

• BoarCroc (Kaprosuchus saharicus), a 20-foot meat-eater. It used its snout for ramming and three sets of dagger-shaped fangs for slicing dinosaurs it ate.

Hey, paleontologists?   I’m a T-Rex, a monstrous killer death lizard, the king of dinosaurs, the king of beasts, the king of Steeler Nation.  We dinosaurs kept BoarCrocs as pets.

And the only thing my BoarCroc Spike ever rammed his snout into was Blor’s kid Blor, because come on, that’s just funny to watch him run to his dad Blor while crying, “Agooma seechee woo!” which in Stupid B.C. translates roughly to “I am a giant whiny baby.”

Rawr.


Rex

Bananas.

foodtheory

(source)

If you must know, yes, they tried.  But first of all, Noah had nothing to do with it.  He let the monkeys loose and those monkeys were very jealous of us dinosaurs.

Second of all, the monkeys obviously missed because they have poor aim and because, ta-da!, we’re still here.

Third of all, when we finally hit dry land, the dinosaurs had a chit chat with the monkeys about their failed annihilation attempt.  It went well.

Fourth of all, monkeys are delicious.

Rawr.


era: Prehistoric .
Rex

Halloween 2009.

Jake and I had such a blast this Halloween!

We started our evening handing out candy to AIP students and that was awesome for about three minutes because that’s how long the candy lasted before Jake snarfed it all down.

I used to be like Jake, eating all the candy I could get my mouth on, even going so far as stealing candy from young trick or treaters.  But I only did that one time back in the 1950s.

How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a real rabbit?!  And relax, I didn’t eat the kid.  He had at most one or two puncture wounds before my old handler Matty tranqued me within an inch of my life.  The point is, I learned my lesson.  Don’t eat ANYTHING on Halloween just because it looks like an animal.

So this Halloween, to be sure we were looking at REAL animals, Jake and I headed to the Zoo to trick or treat.

Can I just tell you, contrary to what you may believe, the Pittsburgh Zoo will not in fact toss a baby monkey into your treat bag just because you show up in a caveman outfit and say “Trick or treat!”

Not only will they not give you a monkey, they will kick you out and call your handler who will come to the zoo with guns blazing.

Blazing, I tell you.

When I came to, it was this morning and who should be standing in front of me, mocking my outfit, calling me Barney and being all brave-like, but Chachi.

Lucky for me, it didn’t take me but a moment to clear my head and realize I was still holding a club and that I was still a fierce monstrous killer death lizard.

Here lies Chachi.

Someone come get his body.  I’m not saying he’s dead, but he sure does stink.

Rawr.