Presented by The Art Institute of Pittsburgh

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

Rex

A picture story, with words. By Rex. Part II.

… and it came to pass that some insane, deranged, death-wishing ninja stole the octopus from Rex’s jaws as he slept one night, thereby giving the hated, evil, and still hideously ugly Red Wings their mojo back, resulting in a devastating shut-out in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

The morning that Rex awoke to discover his octopus gone, he immediately destroyed three city blocks in anger.

As the dust settled, as the Mayor finished screaming at the AIP staff about “craters” and “fires” and “taxes” and “extinction” (whatever that means), Rex called Pageboy Norm to him and demanded not only the head of the person who stole the octopus, but also, if Norm had any designs on living another day, a new octopus.

In a burst of self-preservation, Pageboy Norm learned that Councilman Finnerty had a pet octopus that had been giving him the shifty-eyed “I will strangle you to death if you turn your back on me” look and generously offered it up to Rex in sacrifice to appease the angry Hockey Gods into the transfer of the Mojo.

This octopus was fatter, squishier, redder, and a whole lot more scared than the previous octopus.

Frightened and confused, the octopus reared its grotesque bulbous head in anger and stared into the eyes of the ferocious monster killer death lizard. The octopus bravely spat out, “Bite me, loser!”

Being a generous king, Rex obliged.

As he munched hungrily on the delicious octopus, savoring the suck of the moist suction cups, Rex addressed his people in a roaring voice.

“My people, hear my words and hear them well. Read my lips. Read the signals in the smoke shooting from my nostrils. If any of you dares to touch this octopus, this booby-trapped octopus, I might add, when I get my hands on you, you will beg for a speedier death than the octopus I just devoured. Step the heck off.”

And the Penguins went on to win Game 6 and Game 7 and Rex got lots of hot babes.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: , ,
Rex

Wrangler, tranq thyself.

First, we are going to walk Norm through some deep breathing exercises so he doesn’t lose control and force me to tranq him.

That’s right, I am holding the tranq gun and Norm is the one about to stomp things.

[in]

[out]

Okay, we’re ready. Wait, no he’s not. He’s growling. Let’s start over.

[in]

[grrrrrrr]

NORM! Control yourself.  I have a lot of juice loaded into this gun.

[out]

[in]

[out]

Okay, so Norm is a little perturbed. (At his behest, I’m currently holding a tranq gun to Norm, so you clearly understand that “perturbed” is putting it mildly, right?)

The Three Rivers Arts Festival comes to town this weekend and featured is a group called the Black Keys. They are a duo and one of the humans, a guy named Patrick, said some not very nice things about AIP.

I’m going to whisper it for you, so Norm doesn’t hear it again. 

He referred to it as “pseudo” because he couldn’t understand why he was getting such great grades. And he also said –

Okay, that’s all I got.  Norm just destroyed the newspaper. I’ve never seen him like this. But on the bright side, I’m HOLDING THE TRANQ GUN! I’ve never felt such a rush of power. Now I understand why Norm gets that little mwah-hahaha going right before he shoots me.

Listen, me being a fantastic, fearful, fearsome, formidable, and all around butt-chomping awesome dinosaur, you don’t believe for one portion of one iota of one percentage of one millisecond that I would ever be associated with a school if it wasn’t top notch and something to be more than proud of, do you?

This Patrick guy, he’s very confused.

Now, as for the Post-Gazette reporter, Mr. Scott Mervis, I’m a little angry at him for including that portion of the interview in the article in the first place. It accomplished nothing but making Patrick look dumb, making AIP have to defend its stellar reputation, and making me get a map and realize that the Post-Gazette building is just right down the block. I mean, I’m looking down the Boulevard and look right there.  It’s just right there.

Norm seems to be calming down a bit now. He’s doing his deep breathing while burning the newspaper in the trash can.

Hey, I wonder what this button on the tranq gun does if you —

Oh, I am in so much trouble.

Sleep well, Norm.

Hey, you guys, if you see Scott Mervis exit the P-G building, look left, look right, open his eyes in stark terror, scream “Oh, My God! A DINOSAUR!” and then take off sprinting toward the Point with a handsome, fearsome T-Rex hot on his heels waving a stolen tranq gun.  Well, I don’t know anything about that.

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

Sweeping up after the Scattered Showers

No, I’m not doing chores, regardless of how many times Norm and Sally have asked me to clean up after myself.

I asked Norm to get me a broom to celebrate the Penguins’ recent sweep of the Carolina Hurricanes.

Or as I call them, the Carolina Scattered Showers.  Poor inconsistent, random, isolated Scattered Showers.

Did you notice that Sidney Crosby and other Penguins touched the Prince of Wales Trophy when that is considered to be bad luck? It is interesting to note that your friend Rex had a role in the origin of that superstition.  You see way way way … WAY back when I played hockey, my team did not win the Prince of Wales Trophy and as they presented the trophy to the captain of the winning team, Blor’s kid Blor … well, I lost it.  I couldn’t stand to see him touching the trophy, so I chomped him good and he never skated again.

Thus, kids, it became known that it is really bad luck to touch the Prince of Wales Trophy.  You could get chomped.

But moving on, bring on the Red Wings. Bring on Marian Hossa (mostly so I can eat him). Bring on their giant smelly octopi. Bring it all. The Penguins will have an answer.

You’ll also notice from the above picture a few other things:

1. Playoff beard, still awesome.

2.  Me, still handsome.

3.  Background, we’re getting ready for graduation here at AIP.  Doesn’t it appear that two of those arms belong to a person trying to grab my tail, or worse yet, grab my butt?

Wow. Both of those are really really bad ideas.

Rawr.


Rex

Noms!

You know that site that has the cute little snack foods?  You know the one with the words over the snacks? You know, the snacks with the horrible grammar and even worse spelling? You know, the one with the noms? Yeah, THAT site.  They’re having a contest to coincide with the release of Will Ferrell’s new movie Land of the Lost. See:

Eek! Wook at the wittle kitty.

The point of the contest is that humans are supposed to take pictures of their noms (that’s what I call cats. They’re not tasty and in fact they’re quite beef-jerkyish, but still, very nom-able) doing their best rawr.

Since noms can’t really rawr any more than fish can rawr, I asked Norm to show them what a RAWR really is:

Doesn’t that look better? No one will ever run screaming from a nom, but EVERYONE runs screaming from these mandibles of death.

You should watch the trailer for this movie if only so you can see what happens at 1:50.

Yesssss.

Rumor on campus is that an AIP grad worked on this film. I’m going to get to work on getting to the bottom of that, just as soon as I finish these noms.

I think you know what I mean.

Yesssss.

Rawr.


era: Cenozoic . species: ,
Rex

Various Curiosities.

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.


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

Fan-tastic art!

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.


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: , , ,