Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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


Insanity defined.

Einstein defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Webster defines insanity as “mental derangement.”

Blor defined insanity as “boodee meechie fu ma” which roughly translates from Stupid B.C. to “setting dinosaur’s tail on fire.”

Would you like to know how I define insanity?

Paying $12,000 to wear dinosaur poop on your wrist.

Vesenaz, Switzerland-based company Artya says the watch set in fossilized feces will sell for 12,000 ($11,290) and comes with a strap made with skin from an American cane toad.

New business idea!

You come here to the school, line up, and for the low low price of only $5,000, I will tell you what time it is and then I’ll poop on your wrist.



I’m kind of a big deal.

Well, what’s this we have here?

Who is that stunning, very famous dinosaur appearing in the pages of the Trib, wearing a color so vibrant so as to bring out the eye of the tiger?

It’s Betty White!



(Don’t tell Sally!)

era: Cenozoic . species:


I finally got my WearPittsburgh shirt and it is as stunning as I knew it would be on me.

As you can see, Norm gave me a weapon with which to use on anyone that tries to climb up on me at the parade tomorrow.

You might call it “The Flag of Ireland” but I call it “Certain Death.”



Kiss me, I’m awesome and I have perfectly useful arms.

This Saturday is the Pittsburgh St. Patrick’s Day parade, and as it is for all downtown parades, I’ll have the best spot on the sidewalk to watch the action as the parade rolls right in front of me.  And this year I borrowed a camera from the Photography Department so that I can take pictures of the action.

Let’s discuss the rules again, in case you’ve forgotten:

1.  Do not sit on me.

2.  Do not climb on my back.

3.  Do not climb on my head.

4.  Do not touch my tail.

5.  Do not put anything in my mouth except carcass.

6.  Do not bring food within 30 feet of me if you don’t plan to share it with me.

7.  Do not stand in between me and any of the horses taking part in the parade.

8.  Do ignore all of these rules if you are a cute babe.

As you know, the Art Institute of Pittsburgh is partnering up with WearPittsburgh to provide three shirts you might want to wear at the parade.

Norm asked me which I wanted to wear and this is what happened:

Norm: Whaddaya think?

Me: Do you really need to ask?  A shirt that instructs cutie pies to smooch me or two shirts that don’t?  Do the math.

Norm: Math?

Me: Dinosaur plus handsome times a billion plus instructional shirt minus Sally equals lots of smooches for Rex.

Norm: That’s a hell of an equation.  I see you borrowed a camera from Photography.

Me: I’m going to take some unbelievable pictures of the parade.  You might want to clear a date at the art gallery for a showing of my photographs.  I’ll sell them for $40,000 each, easily.

Norm: Have you taken a picture with a camera ever in your life?

Me: Hmm, can’t say that I have.

Norm: I see. Why don’t you go ahead and practice on me?  Go ahead. Pick up that camera and hold it up in front of your face and click the button.  Go on.  You got it in your hands?  Got it?  Okay, now using your GIANT LONG arms, lift that camera up high enough in front of your face so you can see the view-finder.  Up. Up. This is up, that is not up.  Up. Higher. Higher.  Are you lifting, Rex?  That’s all the higher you can go?  To your throat? Do you see my point, Rex?  Don’t stomp on the camera, REX!

Dear Photography Department, about that camera you loaned me.  Yeah, I don’t know anything about that.



A one-sided conversation with Norm

Norm: “I’m back from my trip.”

Me: [glare]

Norm: “Did you have fun with Chachi?”

Me: “Hmph.”

Norm: “Silent treatment?  Mature.  It’s not like I left him with the tranq gun, and by what he wrote, it seems like you two really hit it off!”

Me: [snort]

Norm: “So he called you ‘Rexy’ all week.  It’s a term of endearment, I’m sure.”

Me: [giving the "go on" arm gesture]

Norm: “Okay, okay.  So he called you ‘Barney’ a few times.  Harmless slip of the tongue.”

Me: [soft growl]

Norm: “He did a great job; I don’t care what you say.  You weren’t tranqed.  You were fed.  And you even got to blow something up.”

Me: [louder growl]

Norm: “What?  Are you upset he destroyed you at video games all week?  Honestly, Rex, take heart.  You can’t help it if you can’t work the buttons of the controller because of your tiny  —”


Norm: “Hey, look! You’re talking to me again!” [pew pew]

I’ve decided to forgive Norm.  First because he promised he doesn’t have any trips coming up any time soon, and second, because he hooked me up with some awesome shirts to wear for the St. Patrick’s Day parade next Saturday.

As for Chachi, just letting you know that I don’t know anything about the flaming bag of dino poo on his porch.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,

Blor’s kid Blor wuz here.

When I told Norm that I was pretty sure it was Blor’s Kid Blor that left me that cryptic message a few weeks ago, it took Norm about five minutes to regain his breath what with the falling down and pointing and laughing at me.

Well, look what I found scrawled on a whiteboard in one of the school’s classrooms while I was NOT on my way to raid the culinary department:

First, this proves that I’m not paranoid.  Blor’s Kid Blor is somehow alive and he has picked up English and he is stalking me in an effort to exact revenge.

Second, the only thing Blor’s Kid Blor ever did to my butt in a cave fight was watch as it sat on his ugly face, making him really regret that I ate month-old mammoth meat that morning.

The cavemen had to invent a new word to describe the smell.



Adventures in Dinositting

@ChachiSays twitter excerpt:

Norm: “Remember Chachi?”

Rex:That guy I destroyed?”

Norm: “You didn’t destroy him.”

Rex: “I recall otherwise.”

Norm: “He’s my friend, you know.”

Rex: “He’s my enemy that I destroyed, you know.”

Norm: “He’s also my friend on Twitter.”

Rex: “I wouldn’t know that because you don’t actually let me use Twitter because you think I’m irresponsible or some other such nonsense and is this conversation going to have a point soon because I’m kind of feeling like punching you right now.”

Norm: “With those puny — uh, anyways, Chachi was talking on Twitter today about how much he wants a dinosaur.”

Rex: “To fight?”

Norm: “No.”

Rex: “To tranq?”

Norm: “As a pet.”

Rex: “Good luck with that.”

Norm: “I told him you would hang out with him this weekend and kind of be his pet slash friend and he could sort of be your handler since I’m going out of town tomorrow and I actually did need someone to keep an eye on you and he promised he wouldn’t tranq you unless it was absolutely necessary and Rex, sit down and stop breathing like that.  What are you doing?  Rex, stop right there.  Don’t make me –”

And when I came to, Norm was gone and this Chachi guy is standing there with a stupid grin on his stupid face and he keeps calling me “Rexy” and this weekend is going to be very not okay. For Chachi.


era: Cenozoic . species:

Oregon Trail of Death

The other day I was hanging out in the student lounge watching some Olympics on TV, which, I’m seriously thinking about taking up snowboarding, when I couldn’t help but overhear some students talking, because I was eavesdropping.

They were talking about some old computer game disks they found and they said two words that caught my attention: oxen and oxen.

I waited until they were distracted by the Danish curlers, then I swiped their disks and headed to my room to check out The Oregon Trail.

First the game wanted to know who was leading the expedition and of course, that would be me.  I’m the most experienced and a natural born leader.  This will be easy for me.

Then it wanted to know the names of the four people in my party:

Blor’s Kid Blor and Barney are what you would call Red Shirts.  Sacrifices to the Dysentery Gods, if you will.

Then we went to Matt’s store to purchase supplies for the trip.  Matt tells me the oxen are to pull the wagon and I tell Matt to throw a couple extra yoke of oxen on the bill so that I can have some snacks on the way.

Matt also told me I should take two sets of clothing for everyone in my party, but that seems wasteful, so I only purchased one set for each of them. Hey, I’m going naked, they should be able to make due with one set of clothing.

Off we go!

So, we’re not THIRTY THREE miles from home when:

I lost 769 pounds of food probably because Blor’s Kid Blor discovered fire while on the wagon.  I hate that kid.

Good thing I have extra oxen.

This displeases me greatly. We are still only 33 miles from home and already the humans are stealing my food.  Also, how does one steal an ox without anyone waking up?!  I blame Blor.

NO, NOT SALLY! NO!  Also, seeing as I lost five sets of clothing, that means EVERYONE is now naked.  Fantastic.

But on the plus side, rest in hell, Barney.

We got lost?!  I blame Blor.

He had it coming!

Things got very bad, very fast.

Poor Norm.  Being naked with no food in the middle of March will do that to a human.  He should have packed some extra clothes and some snacks or something.  Notice we’re completely out of food.  I blame Blor.


I’m all alone at this point.  All my people and my oxen are gone.

I spend my days waiting for death.

Stupidest game ever.




The other day, Norm and I had this conversation.

Norm: Hey, Rex, first, did you see that promo for “Tyrannosaurus Sex?” And second, I’m getting some complaints about you lighting students’ backpacks on fire with your Olympic torch.

Me: First, TYRANNOSAURUS SEX?  Did we suddenly subscribe to DinoMax and you didn’t tell me? And second, I don’t know anything about that.  Kids are liars.

Norm: They showed me their burnt backpacks and the hair on the back of their heads.  Most of them have reverse mullets now thanks to you.

Me: Hee. Yeah, I don’t know anything about that.  So, what’s this about dinosaur sex on TV?

So on Valentine’s Day, I tuned in to the Discovery Channel of all places to watch as scientists attempted, quite poorly, to explain dinosaur sex to the humans.

You can watch a video here, but as a real live dinosaur, I am telling you that these so-called “scientists” didn’t get ANYTHING right about dinosaur sex.

Let me explain to you how it REALLY works.

[redacted by Norm]

I know. Amazing. Try not to be so in awe of me the next time you see me.


era: Cenozoic,Prehistoric . species:

Do you smell something burning?

The world is currently in the throes of Olympics-glee as the Winter Olympics are being held up in Vancouver, BC, Canada.

Here at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, the students have given me this fancy, Olympics-inspired background.

I don’t know what that’s supposed to be in the background over my shoulder, but if I had to guess, I’d say Stonehenge.

You’ll notice I’m holding a torch.  I’m happy about this.  Not because it goes well with the background and not because the burnt orange of the flame brings out the fierce reds of my eyes, and not because it keeps me warm since I’m standing out here naked all the time (which, you’re a heck of a handler, Norm), but because you should SEE the look of terror on the passing students’ faces when they first realize that their backpacks are on fire.


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