1.  It begins Saturday. Red Wings. Penguins. Rematch.

Let’s break it down with Math Time with Rex: Making you Mathier

1 2008 Red Wings team

+ 1 very despicable Marian Hossa

+ Bad Karma

- God

+ The Devil

<

1 2008 Penguins team

- 1 despicable Marian Hossa

+ 1 Bill Guerin

+ God

+ Good Karma

That’s right. This year, we’re the better team.

2.  I found another great picture of my hockey-playing days for you to enjoy.

I agree with you, orange really is a great color on me. Wow.

Note the blood stains on my teeth. It goes without saying that this was an exceptionally bad day for Blor’s kid Blor.

You’re going to high-stick a monstrous killer death lizard, you’re going to get up close and personal with the hangy thing in the back of my throat.

Yes, dinos have those, too.

You learned something today!

3.  This KIND of makes me feel bad about how much I hate the Red Wings:

God help me, but I kind of love Beth, too.

Don’t tell Sally!

She’s still mad about Gertie.

4.  When I first saw these cookies being sold at the Pretzel Shop in the South Side I thought to myself, Rex, clearly these people are huge fans of yours and so much so that they have baked cookies in your image.

But then I noticed the cookies were … purple.

And then I realized maybe these are … Barney cookies?

BARNEY COOKIES?! In PITTSBURGH?! WHERE I LIVE?!  WHERE I RULE?!?

I didn’t get a chance to “speak” to the owners because I blacked out.  I suspect Norm tranqed me, but I can’t be sure since when I came to he was nowhere to be found.

So listen, if you see Norm cowering somewhere in fear mumbling, “Just sit still. Stop shaking. He’ll never look here.” Don’t disturb him. Just tell me where he is and I’ll play hide and seek and eat with him.

He loves that game.

Rawr.

1.  What in the name of the lightning bolts of Zeus has gotten into Evgeni Malkin?

He is a man on a mission and that mission is to win the Stanley Cup and hopefully to give us more interviews like the one that he gave yesterday in which he basically said, “Mom. Love. Cook. Game. Goal. Dad. Shoot.”

Those were all the words I understood.  I tried to translate more but I don’t speak Hockey God.

And then there was Norm on twitter, as the game ended, once again showing off his death grip on the English language.

That’s poetry, Norm. Is that how you say “hat trick” in Hawaiian?

2.  How long do you think before Geno’s parents just start making out in the stands when he scores a goal?

3. I think I’ll watch the next home game at the big outdoor screen with the rest of the fans. Norm, I’m going to need you to get there early and block off a 15-foot by 15-foot space for me. Use velvet rope, please.  If anyone gives you a hard time, tag their shoulder with a Sharpie and I’ll maim them when I get there.

4.  Rexrolled you!

5.  Do not freak out, because I freaked out a little bit and broke some sidewalks (Sorry, Mayor Luke!  Send the bill to AIP to the attention of Paul Pezich).  Would you look at this computer mouse that transforms into a Monstrous Killer Death Lizard?

This is a very very okay product!

If he knows what’s good for him, Norm is getting me one of these for Christmas.  I’ll probably give him my usual gift … stress.

6.  A NOT Okay product?

A dinosaur pinata? NOT okay!

Hey, how about I shove some hard candies down your throat and then beat you with a pointy stick until you puke them back up?

7. Math time!  My new motto for this portion of the blog is “Math Time with Rex.  Making you mathier because you’re chromosomally inferior.”

I still love you, so help me help you.

2 regular weekend days +

1 holiday day -

1 dinosaur wrangler who is busy partying on Monday -

1 imminent threat of tranquing +

1 dinosaur with the knowledge of Matt Lamanna’s whereabouts =

No posting on Monday.

Rawr.

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.

Norm told me I had mail and I assumed he meant e-mail, but in reality, I had mail. You know, MAIL MAIL. Postal service mail. Letter carrier mail. Pony express mail.

Mmmm, ponies. Wait. Where was I? Right, MAIL!

A fan of mine drew this little cartoon for me:

I have some things to say:

1. This is a true to life representation of the adulation and adoration I receive from the AIP students on a daily basis.

2.  In this cartoon “rawr” clearly means “I love you.”

3.  Please notice the [redacted]-eating grin on Wrangler Norm’s face as he aims his Tranq Gun of Doom at me. This is a true to life representation of Norm’s ridiculously jittery trigger finger. I can’t rip one tiny limb off of anything without him giddily gunning for me. One of these days I’m going to steal it, shoot him in the butt and when he comes to muttering about unicorns, YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT!

4.  Norm wishes he was that tall.

5.  It is a tough job being the bomb diggity, but my God, someone has got to do it.

Know who else is the bomb diggity? Whoever drew this for me.

Rawr.

Today I took a walk to take in all of the wonderful sunshine we’re having here in Pittsburgh when I ran into my good friend Dolly in Shadyside.

Poor Dolly.

It would appear someone mistook her for an EXOTIC DANCER!

Source.

How rude. But in defense of the person that left the single there, it might be confusing because Dolly never wears clothes, unlike yours truly. But in defense of Dolly, she was nowhere near McKees Rocks.

Also, why don’t any humans ever come up to me and offer me cash like this? I’m offended by this because I can really bust a move and if you’ve never seen your good friend Rex bust a move, then you’ve never seen a move busted.

I’m especially awesome at the ‘NSYNC “Bye-Bye-Bye” dance and I can churn a barrel of butter like an Amish hip-hop star.

Rawr.

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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.

Click for larger image.

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1.  Sorry that I didn’t post yesterday, but I was in mourning.

If this were twitter, that previous statement would have been hash-tagged with #STUPIDPENGUINS!

2.  Tonight, they win it in seven and they’ll do it with dominance. I’m saying 5-1.

Are you laughing at me?  We’ll see who’s laughing tonight when the next Evgeni Malkin interview goes something like, “Ah, yes, ah, love to mommy and daddy and we knowed good game and uh, we have the heart and the skating to uh, KICK THEIR STUPID BUTTS! WOO!”

Don’t let me down, Evgeni.

3.  So I was checking out AIP’s calendar and saw this was happening tonight:

05/13/2009

SPRINGTIME BOUNCE HOUSE

Springtime Bounce House and Rita’s Italian Ice from 5 to 9 p.m. in Shannon Hall

I have no idea what this is, but my goodness am I going! I can only assume they are going to have one of those giant inflatable bouncy things for us to jump in.  I hope I don’t pop this one like I destroyed the last one.  Stupid sharp pointy talons of death.

Or maybe they have a room with padded walls and a springy floor and we all get to bounce around like we’re in a mosh pit.  So many things this could be.   I’m going to find Norm and find out if I can bring Sally as my date and also to find out if they have enough Italian ice for a dinosaur.

4.  I have no clue as to what this man is doing to Barney, but please, by all means, continue.

5.  I’ve decided to take up painting during these warm summer months.  I’ll let you know how my first effort turns out as soon as Norm gets me that canvas and paints I asked for. This is an ART school, Norm. You’d think this kind of stuff would appear at the snap of a finger.

[snap]

[snap]

I’m waiting, Norm.

Also, if the Pens win tonight, try to stop yourself from just tweeting the whole alphabet at us. Use your words, Norm.

6. It is such a nice day out, I think I’ll go chase some students.

I’m kidding!

Watch your backs.

Rawr.

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.

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.

Here’s some news:

A lost tribe of dinosaurs in Colorado and New Mexico may have survived the extinction of their brethren some 65 million years ago, a paleontologist suggested Tuesday.

First, brethren? What is this, church?

Second, that word extinction. I thought we agreed that wasn’t a real thing. A fake word. A sniglet, if you will.

Third, my favorite sniglet in the world is orosuctuous. It sounds like a dinosaur doesn’t it? But it’s not. Look it up. One time, a caveman sucked a stone bowl to his mouth for a whole three minutes (cavemen were easily bored. Because they were stupid). A stone bowl! That’s orosuctastic!

Lastly, all the proof you need that the dinosaurs didn’t die out 65 million years ago is standing on the Boulevard of the Allies right now wondering how much of a head start he should give the other runners in the marathon on Saturday.

I’m thinking a good 30 minutes should make it a competitive race.

Rawr.