Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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


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: ,

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.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,

Zestfully clean.

This morning I woke up and was listening to the traffic report when I heard that “The Bathtub” was back.

If you’re new to Pittsburgh, you might not know that The Bathtub is what we call the area of the Parkway East, that when the river rises high enough, floods enough to cover the road surface which creates a sort of, well, BATHTUB!

Naturally, I did what any dino would do when hearing a giant bathtub had formed out of nowhere, like a gift from Mother Nature:


What?  I’m sorry, but when your daily cleansing routine is simply your wrangler asking the fire department to turn the hose on you full blast, you take any opportunity you can to commune quietly with your rubber ducky.




Great Adventures with Rex, Leo and Leonis.

My goodness.  I take one little week off from my blog and oh, my God, the MOURNING.

The calls, the emails, the WHY, REX, WHY?!!?s.

Can’t a dino have a little life outside his famous, well-written, fantastically trafficked, future award-winning blog?

According to Norm, I can’t, and he was not too happy to discover that I had disappeared.

I’m sorry.  It’s cold here in Pittsburgh.  I’m cold-blooded.  That means however cold you are at any particular point in time, I am thousands and thousands of hundreds of millions times colder (and cooler) than you.  I’m not exaggerating.

I got sick of the cold and so I decided to find out where in the world Leo and Leonis were having their latest adventure.  And once I found out that they were still in sunny California, I headed out West.

Dear Dollar Bank, I have no idea where Leo and Leonis are.  Swear to Zeus and all the stupid caveman gods.

Anyway, we spent some time on the beaches of California surfing and being warm.  Leo and Leonis showed me around Venice Beach and I took a bus tour that visited the stars’ homes.

You can imagine my anger when I discovered that the tour only brought you to look at the OUTSIDE of the stars’ homes.  That was ridiculous because that’s like accepting money for a movie rental and then only giving the customer the box the movie came in.  “Look at the cute little chipmunks.  They sing and are adorable.  Here’s the DVD box.  Now give me four dollars and go home to imagine what the movie is like.”

I understandably got angry and maybe a bit destructive and I may or may not be wanted in California for what I did to the gate leading to Jennifer Aniston’s home.

With California conquered, we headed to Arizona for a nice dry heat and some swimming in the tallest fountain in the world.  That’s something to add to our travel scrapbooks.  Here we are enjoying the sunny day:

But how were we to know that swimming is not allowed and that the tourists would freak so far out at the sight of two lions and a dinosaur taking a cooling swim?  And how were we to know that Norm had basically put an APB out on my whereabouts?  And how were we to know how accurate a shot that fat, old security guard would be with a tranq gun?

So, I woke up back here at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, a bit sunburned, very groggy, and POSSIBLY sporting a new tattoo.

As for Leo and Leonis, the last I saw of them, they were making a break for it, swimming like mad for the bank of the fountain pool with tranq darts branded with “Dollar Bank” sticking out of their necks.

But I’m back and I’m happy to see that it is not as cold as it was when I left.  All in all, my time out West was one of the greatest adventures of my life and that includes the time I invented Caveman Ball.

Blor’s kid Blor was NOT a very good ball.

Also, chipmunks are delicious.



They’re BAAAA-ACK!

I love Christmas and I always have, ever since that night that giant bright star appeared in the sky and we dinos thought it was an asteroid zooming toward Earth and boy, did we look silly trying to outrun it.

Christmas is wonderful.  Winter break, however, is not.

I hate it because it gets so quiet here when the students go home to their families.  No one to stop and chat with me, other than AIP staff, and I don’t need to tell you what a giant box of fun they are.

I’ve suffered through weeks of being bored and having no one to terrorize save for the occasional downtown accountant or lawyer, which, Norm, if you get a letter from Michaels, Michaels, Michaels, Michaels, and Smith LLC informing you of a lawsuit for personal injury, I don’t know anything about that, but ask them if LLC stands for Lame Losers who Cry.

Today, the students began arriving back at AIP to get ready for orientation tomorrow night and classes which begins on Monday, and boy, I have missed those little rascals and OH BOY, am I ready to greet them with love, affection, and spheres of icy death.

Remember kids, when you walk by me tomorrow and I pick the backpack off of your back with one well-aimed, 100 mph snowball, I did it with love.

I believe you humans have an expression, do you not? It’s on like Donkey Kong.



In mourning.

Here lies the Steelers season, dead at such a young age. May it rest in peace.

Needless to say, I’m very angry with Norm.

The Steelers did not make the playoffs because I did not eat a dolphin and I did not eat a dolphin because Norm would not allow me because he fears animal-lovers.

Sure we beat Miami, but that’s not the point.  The point is we needed mojo to have the rest of the games go our way so that we could sneak into one of the wildcard spots, and we didn’t have that mojo because I didn’t eat a dolphin.

Steeler Nation, as your king, I encourage you to start pressuring Norm now so that next season when I want to eat a panther or a falcon or a bengal or a raven or a buccaneer, he understands the importance of my selfless sacrifice on behalf of the team, and doesn’t stand in my way.

Now, I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a “buccaneer,” but I’d go for Barney dressed as a pirate.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,