Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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

Rex

And it was so.

… and it came to pass that Rex was very prophetic.

What did I tell you? You eat their terrified octopi, you take away their mojo.

One down. Three to go.

Also, suction cups are delicious and very sucky.  In a good way.

My willingness to eat one for the team, so to speak, has gained me some new lady admirers on twitter:

My responses are, from top to bottom:

  1. I love you, too. (Don’t tell Sally!)
  2. No. (Don’t tell Sally!)
  3. LIAR!

I would sooner kiss that [redacted by Norm] “Dr.” Matt Lamanna before I would ever reject a kiss from a babe. She must have me confused with another handsome dinosaur.

And then there’s this.

Yeah, you go poop out a penguin and then come back and tell me if “funny” is really the appropriate word to describe the experience.

Rawr.


Rex

A Picture Story, with words, by Rex

You might be surprised to know that not only am I incredibly handsome and astoundingly mathy, I’m also quite the author.  Here’s a little story for you, perhaps one you’ll want to share with your kids before you tuck them in tonight.

Once upon a time there was a dinosaur, the handsomest most feared dinosaur in all of the land.

We’ll call him Rex.

In addition to being the eyes, ears, and sharp pointy teeth of the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, Rex was also the Ruler of all the Nation of Steeler and the biggest Pittsburgh Penguins fan on the planet.  Literally the BIGGEST!

It came to pass that the evil, hated, and let’s be honest, quite ugly Red Wings came to town for the Stanley Cup finals after having won the first two games of the series — something that caused Rex to question his finely honed math abilities. But that’s another story.

The Red Wings had an unofficial mascot of sorts in that the fans would regularly toss an octopus onto the ice before or during a hockey game.

Yes, kiddies, an octopus. Is their mascot. Because they are dumb.

But that’s another story.

No, it’s not! It’s THIS story! They’re very very dumb.

Rex, being fearsome, decided to show the People of the Land of Octopi what’s what.

He went to his pageboy Norm and demanded that an octopus be brought to him or heads would be chomped off and spit into the Mon.

Luckily for Pageboy Norm, his friend Jim Lokay from KDKA-TV had an octopus. On his person. This raises questions, but that’s another story.

The octopus was terrified when it saw Rex, with eyes that pleaded please don’t eat me. I can’t help it if my people are stupid!

Rex ignored the pleas of the doomed octopus and gave it a nice squeeze to make sure it was squishy enough.

It was.

And Rex ate the CRAP out of that octopus, the Penguins won the next four games, Rex was regularly smooched by pretty girls and they lived happily ever after.

The end.

Rawr.


Rex

A sudden craving for suction cups.

I just don’t get it. My math is superb so I don’t understand why the Penguins are down two games when my math showed that we should be sweeping the Red Wings.

I must have gone wrong somewhere in my equation and I’ve placed a call to Sheldon for help.

Maybe it needs some Higgs Boson or some string theory or possibly Schrodinger’s Nom.

If the Red Wings win, placing the Stanley Cup into the quivering hands of Marian Hossa, we can all be sure that God has a terrible sense of humor.  Further proof can be found by looking at the Nigersaurus.  I was once friends with a Nigersaurus named Niles, but he kind of got tired of me pointing and laughing.

While the two losses have been very un-awesome, what has been awesome is my playoff beard.

Behold the before:

Behold the now:

We need to end this season before I’m tripping on my beard.

The Red Wings come to town tomorrow and suddenly, I’ve got a hankering for octopus.

Norm?

Rawr.


Rex

Penguins, pride and poop.

Today I obliged some of the staff at AIP with a photo op to give them a chance to show off their Penguins pride on this the day of Game 2.

Here’s the group shot:

1.  Notice they brought me gifts.  A black and gold pom-pom and a Winter Classic blue hat.

I love my people.

2.  Notice my beard. Still frickin’ awesome.

3.  Notice that none of the babes are kissing me on the cheek. I’m sad by this. (Don’t tell Sally!)

Here’s me and my wrangler Norm who surreptitiously doffed his hat and holstered his tranq gun so as to appear harmless.

1.  Notice whose playoff beard is awesomer.  Hint … rawr.

2.  Notice that Norm used PhotoShop to make himself appear taller. That’s sad.

3.  Notice that I have apparently just pooped out a penguin.

I am never eating at the zoo again.

Rawr.


Rex

Teaching the humans how it’s done.

Eat your heart out Mikey and Big Bob.

Eat your heart out Mario Lemieux.

While you all are growing beards for charity, and that’s a wonderful thing because as you know, I’m a very charitable person provided you don’t steal my shoes, make fun of my arms, look at my girlfriend wrong, look at me wrong … uh.  Anyway, your beards are positively nothing but pre-pubescent chin scruff.

This, humans, is how you grow a hockey playoff beard.

You do it overnight using the sheer force of your awesomeness.  While you sit here and admire the insane potency of my machismo, I am going to see if I can use the sheer force of my awesomeness to convince Norm to find me some carcass.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: , , ,
Rex

Putting some junk in my trunk.

Norm sent me an email asking me to give him some junk.

I’m not even joking.  See.

WE NEED YOUR JUNK! PLEASE SHARE WITH FAMILY, FRIENDS and PEOPLE WHO MIGHT WANT TO DONATE ITEMS FOR OUR SALE!

The all-caps makes me think that he URGENTLY needs my junk.  He tells me it is for the upcoming AIP Rummage Sale on June 3, which helps provide scholarships for the students — my kids.

Boy, 65-million-years of life brings a whole lot of junk.

I’m donating the following, so if you wish to buy them, and I know you will, you should get there bright and early for the sale to wrestle with the other Rex-lovers trying to get their hands on my things:

1.  One very damaged pair of giant pink bunny ears.

2.  One very damaged set of giant bagpipes.

3.  A very expensive watch monogrammed with ML.  I have no idea where I got it or who ML is, but I bet there’s a really ticked off paleontologist tearing through his stuff right now. But I don’t know anything about that.

4.  Some old audiotape marked “W-Gate”.  No clue.

5.  Carmen Sandiego’s hat. That’s right. Who found her? This dino.

Anyway, get out your junk, throw it in your trunk, and head over to the 1st Avenue loading dock in the rear of the AIP building – read the poster for complete details. Say hello to your good friend Rex when you stop by, however, be warned that if your junk includes a dinosaur-sized pair of running shoes … it is so on.

Rawr.

rummagesale09

Click for larger image.

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Rex

Rest easy, Mr. Sykora

Yes, Petr, there is a Santa Claus and his name is Norm and look at what Norm made for me:

Adjectives you’re currently seeking: Amazing, astounding, staggeringly handsome, Adonis-like, virile, ravishing, majestic, pulchritudinous, Rico Suave.  Circle one.

You can rest easy, Petr. I’ll not be coming for you in your sleep tonight to make you my newest life sized Penguins bobblehead and you can thank Norm for saving your scrawny butt.

Now that Norm and I have done our parts, you and the rest of you slacking Penguins (not you, Sidney. Hat trick = good), GET TO WORK AND WIN FOR THE LOVE OF GERTIE!

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: , ,
Rex

Various Curiosities.

1.  As you are aware, the Penguins are deep in the throes of the second round of the playoffs and I am STILL not wearing any Penguins gear. Not a flag, a jersey, a stick, a puck, a sliver of ice, a helmet, the lifeless body of Marian Hossa. Nothing.

Norm, if I don’t have something Penguin-y by tomorrow, do not blame nor tranq me when I’m forced to either steal a real live tuxedo-wearing slippery penguin from the zoo or to just grab a Penguin from his bed (probably Petr Sykora – he’s not too busy) and then stand here and wave his angry, thrashing body like a flag to passersby.

Sure some of them might be asking, “Is that guy screaming in Czech begging us for help?” but most of them would be saying, “Good ole’ Monstrous Killer Death Lizard Rex. Now THERE’S a true fan.”

Me. Penguins. Make it happen.

2. Hey, look. I’m famous and stuff now. Stop by and see me and maybe I’ll give you an autograph if you bring me meat.

3.  Today’s edition of Okay/Not Okay involves dinosaur cartoons.

Here’s one that is okay:

Cute kid.

And here we have NOT OKAY:

Wow.  That is so original. Oooh, look at the dinosaur, look at his tiny little arms, look at his giant gnashing teeth coming at me, look at the enveloping darkness.

Rawr.


Rex

Zing!

What a refreshing run that was for me and what a crushing defeat that was for the humans in the race.

Did you come downtown to cheer on your good friend Rex as he crossed the finish line 45 minutes before any other runner in the Pittsburgh Marathon? I did spy one or two “Go, Monstrous Killer Death Lizard Rex, Go!” posters as I whizzed by the blur of crowds.

Norm managed to snag one picture before I really picked up speed:

I know it’s terribly blurry and you can barely see the awesome Nikes that Norm found for me, but taking a clear picture of a T-Rex running is like trying to take a picture of heaven.

Good luck with that.

You might read in the newspaper that an Ethiopian man was the first across the finish line, but that is just because he was the first HUMAN to cross the finish line. The race organizers angrily waved a rule book at me after I completed the race.  Something about non-humans being ineligible.

I don’t know.

I ate the book before I could read it.

Rawr.


Rex

On your marks …

Well, it is Friday and the Pittsburgh Marathon is Sunday. I’ve already got my number, as you can see, but I still haven’t found my shoes.

Norm is going to get me new ones for the race after a conversation yesterday that went something like this:

Rex: Make me new shoes or I will drop kick you to the Point.

Norm: Okay.

Self-preservation is so cute on Norm.

Between you and me, I made a big deal about the shoes because I want to look good for the race. I do not need shoes to win a mere 26-mile race. I once chased a velociraptor for 70 miles. I probably could have had him at 2 miles, but I wanted to see him do his personal best before collapsing and dying. I’m a motivator. It was touching.

Do you ever wonder what it is like for a monstrous killer death lizard like me, the perfect combination of strength and speed and handsomeness, to run a race against mere humans?

Maybe this will help you understand:

photo credit

Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

If you come out to the race on Sunday, be sure to say hi to your good friend Rex. I’ll be that handsome dinosaur with a medal around his neck while being a solid half-hour into his nap by the time the first human crosses the finish line.

Rawr.