Norm informed me that today is Google Day here in Pittsburgh, and so I figured that means I’m supposed to Google stuff.

So I decided to Google dinosaurs, specifically I decided to Google “dinosaurs are the best” because I figured I would find some really great dinosaur fan sites maybe being run by some really great and cute babes.

However, I didn’t get past typing “dinosaurs are” before Google decided it knew what I might want to search for:

Dinosaurs are Jesus ponies?

Dinosaurs are dragons?!

Dinosaurs are a myth? Yeah, come here and I’ll show you all the pointy myths in my mythical mouth.

Norm walked into the room as I was sending a strongly worded email  to every website that came up when I clicked on “dinosaurs are a hoax.”

Norm: Why are you banging on your keyboard so hard? And why have you destroyed my room again?  Also, have you seen my calculator watch?

Rex: Hmph.

Norm: What are you doing? You’re not sending Chachi hate mail again are you?

Rex: It’s Google Day, you said, so I’m “Googling” and I discovered that Google is prejudiced against dinosaurs because as soon as you type the word “dinosaur” into the little box, it starts spewing lies at you.  I mean, “JESUS PONIES?!” 

Norm: Oh, relax.  Try typing in “Barney is” and I think you’ll feel better.

What do you know?  I DO feel better.

I’d rather be a mythical Jesus pony than a very real, very flammable antichrist.

Rawr.

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  —”

Me: “RAWR!  GUESS WHICH ONE I MEAN!”

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.

Rawr.

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.

HAHAHAH!  HAHAHAH!

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.

Rawr.

I know. I know.  I haven’t written anything in days and the reason for that has nothing to do with me stalking the Mayor in order to exact revenge on behalf of AIP over the tuition tax.  It does however have everything to do with … uh … something else and I’m not going to tell you what so that you’ll have plausible deniability when you say, “No, I don’t know anything about that.”

I also spent some of my free time over the last few days combing through the internet to find the perfect things to include on the list I will leave laying around for Norm to accidentally discover — my list entitled, “Things I Want for Christmas, and if You Know What’s Good for You, You Will Buy Them for Me or I Will Hurt You While You Sleep. Rawr.”

And look at what I found!

1-800-exotic-meats!

No, it is not a dating service.  It is a place to buy exotic meats for that special dinosaur in your life named Rex.

They have EVERYTHING!  Deer meat, lion meat, alligator meat, llama meat, wild boar meat!

Now, calm down, animal lovers.  I’m sure 1-800-exotic-meats doesn’t go around shooting llamas.  I’m 100% sure they just walk behind the llamas waiting for them to drop dead, and THEN they take their meat.

Regardless,my “Things I Want for Christmas, and if You Know What’s Good for You, You Will Buy Them for Me or I Will Hurt You While You Sleep. Rawr.” list goes like this:

1. Lion meat, but only if the lion suddenly dropped dead so as not to get the animal lovers writing me nasty letters

2.  One whole week without me waking to find a tranq dart sticking out of my snout because you are a lousy shot who couldn’t hit my butt if I painted a bullseye on it.

3.  Bull meat.  See number 1.

4.  Ten minutes alone with the Mayor

5.  The return to me of the Stanley Cup that I rightfully stole

6.  A chance to speak at Barney’s funeral

And boy, if Norm gets me number 6 for Christmas, I already know what I’ll say at the funeral.  I’ll say, “BOO-YAH! Told you I’d outlive your purple [redacted by Norm], you [redacted by Norm] piece of [redacted by Norm].

‘Tis the season!

Rawr.

The Post-Gazette holds a little caption contest each week, and this week, they are seeking captions for this illustration:

I guarantee that some smart-mouthed people are going to send in captions like, “Hey, whaddaya know!  Their arms CAN hold some things.”

MY suggestions:

“It’s a shame.  Steelers lose three in a row and dinosaurs start driving off of cliffs.”

or

“He was driving by Creation Rex when he became so overwhelmed by Rex’s superiority, and he just froze like that.”

or

“It’s Creation Rex.  He was trying to run down Barney.  Barney won.”

But that last one is a total lie because the day I’m behind the wheel and I see Barney in the crosswalk all, “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family …”

Mark my words. I will win.

Rawr.

While I was angrily ranting and raving about those jerk Geekologie writers making fun of my arms, AIP student Eric happened to be walking by and this happened:

Rex: RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Eric: You okay, Rex?

Rex: RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Eric: Uh-oh. What happened?

Rex: RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  [shows Eric the Geekologie post]

Eric: Aw. Silly nerds.  Here, this will make you feel better.

And Eric whipped out his drawing pad and quickly sketched a picture showing how he views me:

Yes. Robot Ninja Sea Monster Dinosaur rules Pittsburgh!

I asked Eric to be sure to include in the sketch the Geekologie writers, Barney, Matt Lamanna, Scott Mervis and all the other enemies I have and he did.

Don’t you see them?

They’re in that there plane I just sent down in a ball of fire.

I feel better already.

Rawr.

Today I was looking into how I can go about putting my fantastic paintings on eBay, since no Pittsburghers have yet taken me up on my extremely generous offers to sell. Sheesh.  Acting like 45 thousand dollars is a lot of money.

Cheap humans.

While I was there on eBay, I decided to hunt around at some other dinosaur art.  Not art BY a dinosaur, mind you, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only dinosaur on the planet talented enough to paint, but art OF dinosaurs.

I found this:

Several things:

1. Dinosaurs don’t have bellybuttons.  I would know because I’ve flung enough students into the Mon who got brave enough to look.  There’s no bellybutton there.  Stop trying to look.  I don’t pick you up and lift your shirt up do I? No.  Because I have class.  And because I would get tranqued.

2.  This “dinosaur” makes Barney look like a terrifying kid-eating monster.

3.  The description indicates that this was a dinosaur character considered for some sort of animated production.  What do you suppose the name of that production was? “Foofy the Dorky Dinosaur Takes a Cruise”?

But even that title doesn’t explain that sock-hat he’s wearing.  Or his stupid facial expression.  Or the suspenders.  Or the neckerchief.

And why is he standing like that?  Does he need to poop?  Did he just dismount his horse?  Can I eat the horse?

Too many questions, not enough juice in the tranq gun.

Rawr.

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.

1. Jake and I are currently trying to figure out what to be for Halloween.  I’m torn between Dead Barney and Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory.

Dead Barney is awesome because, well, it’s dead Barney.  But if I go as Sheldon, I get to wear awesomely cool nerdy shirts which of course means more babes. But if I go as Dead Barney, I will make Norm upset at the inappropriateness of the costume, and you know how much I love to make Norm angry.

Decisions, decisions.

2.  Jake said he wants to be a Cleveland Brown for Halloween.  He says his costume will consist of 12 footballs suspended from his waist with string. You know, for all those passes they drop.  I support this costume idea.

3.  Check it:

And the picture is this:

I approve of this shirt and if you buy it for your human child, I won’t have a problem with it at all.

If however you buy THIS shirt:

I will use these supposedly puny little arms to [redacted by Norm] you.

4.  An email from an adoring fan:

Hi Rex,

We were in Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago for Podcamp Pittsburgh and had a great time. When we got back to Texas, we found one of your cousins. He said his name was Tia Juana Saurus Mex, he said he was a distant cousin, twice removed. He wanted us to send you a picture so here it is.

Cheers,

Rafael Marquez

Hmmm. I don’t recognize this dinosaur at all. And he’s awfully tiny for a dinosaur. And I don’t know why, but I have the strongest desire to beat him with a stick until he pukes candy.

Which is surprising because I’m not normally a violent dino.

What?

Rawr.

There’s a new show coming to PBS called Dinosaur Train featuring a skinny orange “T-Rex” named Buddy.

Sigh.

Anyway, take a look at Buddy.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyQHtLvv9lw[/youtube]

I know what you’re thinking and the answer is yes, a battle to the death between Barney and Buddy would be the most awesome thing ever.

Rawr.