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.

Rawr.

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.

Rawr.

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.

Rawr.

Tonight is the Portraits of the Past Gala here at AIP and yours truly is not only going to be there, daintily snacking on pterodactyl munchies (which is what I assume they serve at “galas”), but I’m also sure to be featured in some of those historical AIP photos.

For instance, here I am a few decades ago checking out the students doing sketches of each other:

You can’t really tell, but in that picture, I was sitting for a portrait being sketched by a total babe.  And I wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Don’t tell Sally.  It was ART.

Here I am sneaking up on AIP’s founder (left, holding the hat):

If you think his screaming was funny, you should have seen him throw that hat at me in stark terror before he realized it was me.

That was a fun day and since it was before AIP invested in a stockroom of highly powered tranq guns, I basically got away with it.

But here’s something I didn’t get away with.  Admiring the lovely ladies while they worked so hard in class:

All I did was breathe a little and it shook the windows, maybe exploded a few of them and then all this crazy screaming and throwing hats and pencils and purses at me.

Excuse me for breathing, ladies!  They did eventually forgive me when I agreed to be a sketch subject for one of their classes.

Again without my clothes.  It’s the story of my life.

In honor of this event celebrating our past, I decided to dress for the occasion and I dug up some of my oldest accessories:

I can see you’re rendered absolutely speechless by the sheer magnitude of my dapper-ness, but just wait until you see me in my tuxedo tonight.

Also, completely unrelated, do you happen to know the best way to get sheep blood out of a tuxedo?

Rawr.

Jake and I had such a blast this Halloween!

We started our evening handing out candy to AIP students and that was awesome for about three minutes because that’s how long the candy lasted before Jake snarfed it all down.

I used to be like Jake, eating all the candy I could get my mouth on, even going so far as stealing candy from young trick or treaters.  But I only did that one time back in the 1950s.

How was I supposed to know it wasn’t a real rabbit?!  And relax, I didn’t eat the kid.  He had at most one or two puncture wounds before my old handler Matty tranqued me within an inch of my life.  The point is, I learned my lesson.  Don’t eat ANYTHING on Halloween just because it looks like an animal.

So this Halloween, to be sure we were looking at REAL animals, Jake and I headed to the Zoo to trick or treat.

Can I just tell you, contrary to what you may believe, the Pittsburgh Zoo will not in fact toss a baby monkey into your treat bag just because you show up in a caveman outfit and say “Trick or treat!”

Not only will they not give you a monkey, they will kick you out and call your handler who will come to the zoo with guns blazing.

Blazing, I tell you.

When I came to, it was this morning and who should be standing in front of me, mocking my outfit, calling me Barney and being all brave-like, but Chachi.

Lucky for me, it didn’t take me but a moment to clear my head and realize I was still holding a club and that I was still a fierce monstrous killer death lizard.

Here lies Chachi.

Someone come get his body.  I’m not saying he’s dead, but he sure does stink.

Rawr.

Here it is!  Your first look at my 2009 Halloween costume, painstakingly made to replicate in exact detail what Blor’s kid Blor used to wear.

Note the fine fabric. Note my enormous biceps and strong jaw.  Note my festive Halloween background. Note the club in my hand that I will use to knock into next Halloween the first person that mutters ANYTHING about a skirt.

Rawr.

Having lived on this Earth for over 65 million years I have seen a lot of Halloweens and that means I have seen Halloween gradually transform from a holiday full of scary costumes, into a holiday that merely encourages young human women to dress as provocatively as possible as anything from a sexy maid to a sexy honey bee.  I’m not even making that up. Who is the genius that first looked at a honey bee and said, “Wow. Hot!” Or, SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS.

It’s stupid.  Halloween is for scaring people so I say we get back to that. Forget the silly sexy police costume or the sexy cow costume (I have no idea if that even exists, but I bet you $87 million it does), and let’s get back to being terrifying.

And what’s more terrifying than a dinosaur? Nothing.

Except these horrible costumes. Don’t wear ANY of these:

1. Adult Barney, because you look dumb and because I’ll probably flay you if I see you in it.  I can’t control my killer instinct when I see that stupid green belly.

2. Don’t wear this one because it apparently will make you dance like the last drunk, single guy on the dance floor of a winding-down wedding reception.

No one needs to see that.

3.  Don’t wear this one unless you want to look like a Jackal dressed as a dinosaur heading to a Furry convention.

That should be illegal.

4.  Don’t wear these ones because we’ve already talked about how we dinosaurs don’t believe in being saddled up by humans unless we have an express written agreement that we’re allowed to eat the human at the end of the ride.

Although I gotta say, riding a Pterodactyl sounds like an awesome good time.

5.  Finally, whatever you do, DON’T WEAR THIS ONE!  Because as you can see, Norm plans to wear it:

If that isn’t just the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.

Well, I’m going to go work on my costume for a bit and I’m going to do it being thankful that there is no such thing as a sexy dinosaur costume.

Oh, crap.

Rawr.

I’m so excited for Halloween this year, so I’ve put my incredible art skills to work at some concept art for possible Halloween costumes. As of this writing, AIP has insisted that I can not be Dead Barney for Halloween so I’ve come up with these other possibilities.

First, I was thinking of being Buzz Lightyear and making Norm go as Sheriff Woody, since he’s already got the hat and the gun and the trigger finger and the whiny voice:

You’ll notice Jake has zoomed off in a space ship to fight evil Emperor Zurg and his galactic forces. Godspeed, Jake. Bring me back Little Bo Peep’s sheep. In a handy carry-out container with hot sauce, if at all possible.

My other idea was to dress as Indian chief Giant Scary Teeth, and have Norm be a lowly Indian servant forced to do my bidding.

Note I threw in some snacks in this picture, also known as buffaloes. This is fabulous, I like it a lot, and the first reader to comment ANYTHING about “Stegosaurus” will be [redacted by Norm].

Did Norm just redact that? No matter. Use your imagination. Then add pointy teeth.

Rawr.

1. Jake and I are currently trying to figure out what to be for Halloween.  I’m torn between Dead Barney and Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory.

Dead Barney is awesome because, well, it’s dead Barney.  But if I go as Sheldon, I get to wear awesomely cool nerdy shirts which of course means more babes. But if I go as Dead Barney, I will make Norm upset at the inappropriateness of the costume, and you know how much I love to make Norm angry.

Decisions, decisions.

2.  Jake said he wants to be a Cleveland Brown for Halloween.  He says his costume will consist of 12 footballs suspended from his waist with string. You know, for all those passes they drop.  I support this costume idea.

3.  Check it:

And the picture is this:

I approve of this shirt and if you buy it for your human child, I won’t have a problem with it at all.

If however you buy THIS shirt:

I will use these supposedly puny little arms to [redacted by Norm] you.

4.  An email from an adoring fan:

Hi Rex,

We were in Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago for Podcamp Pittsburgh and had a great time. When we got back to Texas, we found one of your cousins. He said his name was Tia Juana Saurus Mex, he said he was a distant cousin, twice removed. He wanted us to send you a picture so here it is.

Cheers,

Rafael Marquez

Hmmm. I don’t recognize this dinosaur at all. And he’s awfully tiny for a dinosaur. And I don’t know why, but I have the strongest desire to beat him with a stick until he pukes candy.

Which is surprising because I’m not normally a violent dino.

What?

Rawr.

Could you imagine if I actually tried to list all of the things that I know about that you don’t know anything about?  There aren’t enough terabytes on the planet.

For now though, you first of all don’t know anything about any dinosaur trying to sneak into the Mellon Arena for the first Penguins home game of the season.  The very Mellon Arena I was banned for life from because I did a harmless little thing like steal the Stanley Cup for a few hours.

Here’s the picture than ran in the newspaper next to the headline “Dinosaur spotted lurking in secure area of Mellon Arena. AIP denies it is Rex.”

Good ole’ AIP. Deny deny deny.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get into the building to watch the game live because those sneaky humans locked the roof, making it ridiculously hard for me to pry it open to peek in.  No matter, I watched the game on the outside screen with my adoring fans who liked to jokingly shout, “You! Dinosaur! Either shrink 20 feet or move to the back! Idiot!”

It’s cute how they jokingly call me “idiot.”  Much in the same way that it’s cute when I respond with [redacted by Norm].

The second thing you don’t know anything about is this cigar that Leo and Leonis sent me from Cuba where they’re enjoying a little beach adventure.

Did I say Cuba?  They’re not in Cuba, Dollar Bank.  They’re somewhere where it is perfectly legal to purchase cigars from.  Um, Indiana.

That’s a place right?

Also, bets on how long I can actually smoke this cigar before Norm marches out here and puts it out with the fire hose?  I’ll put $40,000 on ten seconds.

Rawr.