Me: [sigh]

Norm: Don’t sigh. You’ll blow the fridge over again. What’s wrong?

Me: The Steelers.

Norm: Yeah. Bummer.

Me:  MORE than ‘bummer’. This is terrible. We might not even make the playoffs this year!

Norm: Stop shouting. You’ll blow the window out again. Look, it happens. Teams win championships and then fall apart.

Me: Well, we have to beat Miami or we really are done for.

Norm: Yep.

Me:  We need  better defense.

Norm: Yep.

Me:  We need Troy Polamalu.

Norm: Yep.

Me: We need mojo.

Norm:  Yep.

Me:  I should eat a dolphin.

Norm:  Yep — NO!

Me: But it worked with the Penguins!  I won them the Stanley Cup! They were almost losers and I ate an octopus and just like that, WINNERS! I was a hero, a national hero! If I eat a dolphin and the Steelers win and somehow get to the playoffs, why, they’ll throw ME a parade!

Norm:  You’re NOT EATING A DOLPHIN! There is a difference in the eyes of a human when it comes to eating a tentacled, suction-cupped ocean dweller versus a kind, loving, beautiful, life-saving ocean dweller.

Me: But –

Norm:  No.

Me: But -

Norm: NO!

Me:  Fine.

(Ten minutes later)

Me: Do you happen to know which bus goes to the Zoo?

That’s the last thing I remember.

So if the Steelers lose on Sunday, don’t blame me.

I tried.

Blame Norm.

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.

As I told you last week, I did not make it to the NFL kickoff concert at Point State Park, nor did I, the King of Steeler Nation, attend the game at Heinz Field.

With the entire city held captive by either that “dress” Fergie wore or by the mad football stylings of Troy Polamalu, Jake and I seized on a once in a lifetime opportunity to do what I have been threatening to do for three months.

Steal the Stanley Cup right out from under Sidney’s nose.

The first step was to be sure the entire student body was distracted and wouldn’t notice Jake and I slipping into the night like dinosaur ninjas.

You’ll notice Jake was SERIOUSLY angry about that bogus interference call on Troy Polamalu.  I managed to silence him right before he roared in anger.

Out into the cool night, Jake and I reviewed the plan which was 1. sneak out 2. steal the prize 3. laugh like mad maniacal dinosaurs 4. snack 5. nap.

That plan is foolproof.

Jake and I sneaked ninja-like through dark alleys and then swam the river up to Sewickley.  Here we are after exiting the river.

You’d never guess you were looking at dinosaurs would you?  Sally is a genius seamstress by the way.  Also, you should see the size of her sewing machine.

Look how happy Jake is!  Am I not the best mentor in the whole world?

After once again reviewing the plan and also informing Jake that under no circumstances was he to eat any of the Lemieux family pets except fish, we disabled the alarm system using a trick I learned on MacGyver last week (God bless bubble gum and toothpicks!) and slipped into Sidney’s bedroom to find this:

Aw. Sleeping with the Cup. How cute.

I turned to Jake and I said, “Ok. very gently, pick it up.”

And Jake walked over and gently picked Sid up like a little baby, to which I said, “WHAT THE CRAP ARE YOU DOING?!”

And Jake looked very confused and said, “I thought we were picking up dinner!”

Kids these days. I swear. Can’t even steal right.

After I set him straight, Jake gingerly returned a still-sleeping Sid to his bed then I grabbed the Cup, gave it a quick smooch and we were off.

Unfortunately for us, we didn’t know Billy Guerin was also staying the night at Mario’s place.  He saw us sneaking off the property and promptly hopped in his car to chase us down while angrily punching Norm’s number into his cellphone to let him know what I had done.  I can’t for the life of me figure out how he knew it was us. I mean, hello? Disguises!

I guess Jake just doesn’t make a very good ninja.

This is the last thing I remember as I slipped into a tranq-induced unconsciousness:

Pretty sure he’s telling me where I can go and it’s not “to have a nap.”

The Cup is gone. But I had it briefly. I kissed it. I hugged it. I drank out of it. I wore it as a hat.

I’m in a WORLD of trouble.

I haven’t seen Norm this mad since I flicked his car into the river because I was teaching Jake about objects that sink versus objects that float.

Here’s a lesson for you today. Cars? Not very floaty!

Rawr!

Yesterday evening I was mentoring Jake in table manners (what? I’m a classy gentledino!) when this happened:

Jake: This is stupid.

Rex: What?

Jake: You teaching me table manners when we have no table and no actual food. What kind of mentor are you?

Rex: Um, the best mentor in the world.

Jake: [sigh] Fine. Tell me again about how to properly eat carcass without this rude “snarfing” you speak of.

Rex: As the best mentor in the world, I’ll do better than tell you.  I will show you.  Follow me.

Jake: Where are we going?!  Are we going to steal the Stanley Cup finally?!  I brought my camera and everything!

Rex: No, and shut up about that.  I told you I [wink] have no intention [wink] of stealing [wink wink] the Stanley Cup! We’re going upstairs to the culinary department here at AIP.

Jake: Wait. There’s a culinary department here?!  I thought this was an art school.

Rex: As the greatest mentor in the world, allow me to inform you that cooking is an art form. Let’s go.

That’s how it all started.

Here’s a picture Jake took of me sneaking into the culinary department.

What I don’t have pictures of are Jake and I snarfing down every morsel of food in the culinary department, of the faces of the staff when they saw we had snarfed every morsel of food in the culinary department, of the face of Norm when he was told by the staff that we snarfed every morsel of food in the culinary department, or of Norm giving me a finger-wagging “You are in Big Trouble, mister!” lecture before tranqing my classy dino butt.

And I certainly don’t have a picture of the blueprints of Mario Lemieux’s house showing ways to access the room in which Sidney keeps the Stanley Cup. I don’t have that AT ALL.

[wink]

Rawr.

1. No posting yesterday because I was busy with Jake, finalizing plans for the super secret caper we’re going to pull off that has nothing to do with a certain 35 lb. cup-like trophy currently residing somewhere in Sewickley. Nothing at all.

Heh.

2.  On twitter, I saw this from an adoring fan:

Well, you need only take a look at the movie poster and you’ll quickly see that this will be the greatest movie of this human generation and that it will win every single Oscar next year, even the foreign language film. It’s going to be that epic.

Woolly mammoth. Mmmm.  Plus, they come already equipped with after-meal toothpicks.

3. Are you jealous that Norm gets to hang out with a giant awesome dinosaur all the time? Do you wish you could get your own giant awesome dinosaur to wrangle and yell at and tranq?

Now, for the low low price of $48,000, you kind of can!

4.  Now, brace yourselves for some Math!

1 fearsome handsome dinosaur +

6 months +

20 hours of classes per week -

3 hours of necessary sleep per night +

1 time suctioning mentee

+ 35 tranqings

= VACATION!

I’m spending next week visiting my friends all around the world.

First stop, Scotland to visit my best friend Lester.  Here we are swimming in the lake the last time I was able to get out for a visit:

(source)

Ah, I can already hear the relaxing sounds of nature and the horrified screams of the people.

Someone be sure to check in on Norm for me from time to time, okay? I’m sure he’s going to miss having me around for target practice.

See you in a week!

Rawr.

Please accept my apologies that I did not post anything on Friday.  As you recall, that was graduation day at AIP, so you can imagine the hustle and bustle of the day for a graduate like me.

I’m not the only one that was AWOL on Friday.  As you also recall, my wrangler Norm was on vacation last week which meant I got to post whatever I wanted to without it having to go through The Wrangler Filter of Suctioning the Fun out of Everything.

Well, as it happens, Norm is too busy today to turn off my publishing abilities.  AND he emailed me some pictures from his trip. AND I don’t have to get his approval before I post them. And I love this.

Here’s Norm’s vacation photos.  With captions by Rex. Because all Norm did was clog my email with a bunch of enormous pictures and tell me he’d catch up with me later.  I guess it is up to me to fill in the blanks.

Only a dinosaur wrangler and maybe “Dr.” Matt Lamanna would use their vacation time to see MORE dinosaurs, but that’s exactly what Norm did with his vacation.

That’s his summer wrangler hat, in case you’re wondering.

What’s happening in that picture is Norm is thinking, “I miss Rex so much.  I wonder what that fearsome and far superior being is doing right now.”

NOT stealing the Stanley Cup, that’s for sure, Norm. No, sir, I would never do such a thing.

Moving on:

Ever see those pictures of people who position themselves just so and then pretend like they’re holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa?  Here’s Norm’s dinosaur version where he holds up the neck of what looks to be a dinosaur with a serious disease that turned her skin greenish blue.  Look, she’s totally about to puke on that car.  I hope that’s Norm’s car.

Ha. Ha. Norm. So funny. Look at you holding up the giant dinosaur neck with your head.

In that picture, Norm is thinking, “Rex is really the best dinosaur ever and I can only hope to one day be as magnanimous, awesome, perfect, popular and brilliant as he. When I get back home to Pittsburgh I am totally taking him to the farm for a snack.”

And finally, we have this picture:

Apparently, as he often does, Norm has done something to tick off this puking puke-green dinosaur, because that’s a “you’re going to die now” look if I’ve ever seen one.

Instead of running for his life like he should, Norm is thinking, “Rex is just the best. It is far time I realized that I will never be as adored or magnificent as he. In fact, I miss him so much, I will never tranq him again. No matter what he does. Not even when he steals the Stanley Cup.”

Er. I mean IF.  “IF he steals the Stanley Cup.”

Wink.

Rawr.

Can I just tell you how good it felt to shave my playoff beard once I tracked down a machete sharp enough to cut through the thick macho mass?

Here I am looking clean-shaven and as you can see, very very smart.

Graduation is set for Friday and the keynote speaker is Mayor Fetterman from Braddock.  He’s going to give me a shout-out in his speech.  I just know it, because I’m getting my 477th college degree and I’ve already got the silly hat to prove it.

One of those 477 degrees was a Bachelor of Arts in Stupid B.C.  Yes, I once learned the language of the cave people, but I’ve lost most of it now.  All I can say in Stupid B.C. these days is “meeka shoooka poobin reeree kaka foo” which roughly translates to “I eat you now, stupidface.”

Rawr.

Like all Pittsburghers, there are three things I can’t get enough of: ponies, fireworks, and parades.

Good thing we’re the City of Champions (and the Pirates. Oh, yes, I went there.) so we have lots of chances for ticker tape victory parades.

For the most part, the humans stayed off of me during the parade, until these two yahoos (technical term) hopped up for photos.

That is a photo from the Post-Gazette. (Excuse me while I look down at their building and hiss in the general direction of that [redacted by Rex] Scott Mervis. Hissss.)

First, the blond holding my hand? Total babe. Don’t tell Sally!

Second, the yahoos, they’re totally standing on me. It’s okay. Here’s the after picture:

Don’t mess with Rex, or you get the flung rubber band treatment.

Also, you’ll note I flung them through the air at such a speed they lost their clothes somewhere in midair.  I can’t even tell you how awesome that is.

Rawr.

Norm is on vacation this week and that means several things:

1. Free publishing rights for me, which means no stupid redacting when I want to call Marian Hossa a [redacted by Rex]. (I promised Norm I would behave. So I’m behaving and redacting myself. This is maturity, Norm!)

2.  No threat of being tranqed when I pick up anyone that dares climb up on me during today’s parade and I fling them into the Mon like a screaming rubber band. “Look at him fly!”

PENGUINS! Can we please recap?

Four games in which I had an octopus in my jaws = 4 wins

Three games in which I had NO octopus in my jaws = 3 losses

Clearly, I should be allowed a sip or two directly from the Stanley Cup. Or at the very least be allowed to walk in the parade to bask in the adoration of the entire city.

Hmph. Wonder what it will take for me to get my hands on the Cup? Just for a day or two.

I watched Game 7 with Norm and he only had to tranq me twice and I only had to tranq him once … right after the Red Wings scored and he went ballistic. But don’t worry, he came to in enough time to give me a good talking to right before Marc Andre Fleury made the save of his life as the last second ticked off the clock.

That earthquake you may have felt if you were anywhere near downtown was me picking up Norm like a baby doll and jumping up and down and up and down while roaring at the top of my roar.

The parade is going to be insane today.  If you’re downtown, stop by and say hi to your good friend Rex, without whom the parade would never have even been possible.

Also, if the Stanley Cup should mysteriously disappear at any point during the parade route and reappear in my hands, well, as usual, as always, I don’t know anything about that.

Rawr.

Today is all about hockey.  I can’t stop thinking about hockey to the point that Sally can’t stand to be around me anymore because I’m like, “And then I ran into Matt Lamanna and hockey I chased him hockey for about three hockey blocks before hockey he started crying hockey hockey hockey.”

I can’t argue with her that I’m being obsessive.

There are so many things being said today by Penguins fans as we pump ourselves up.  Things like:

Psst. Councilman Peduto? THEY’RE going to take THEIR stuff over THERE.  Okay? Okay.

And so many pictures being emailed around as we attempt to express visually that which we feel way deep down but can’t find words adequate enough.  Things like:

Those pictures were actually created by AIP staff member Sunil Ketty

But despite what we say and despite what we create, it all … always … comes down to math.

Mojo > No Mojo

Iceburgh > Stinky dead eight-legged cephalopod

Everything on Earth > Marian Hossa

Me > Everything on Earth

Penguins > Red Wings

Rawr.