Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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

Rex

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.

Rawr.


Rex

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.

Rawr.


Rex

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.

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.


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.