A Holiday Tradition

We’re going to try something out. Each holiday I’ll add a new part, chapter, section, to the story I am about to weave. I have been kicking this idea around in my head for a bit and we’ll just see how it all comes out. I’ll get it out of the way now this probably will not be work safe or child appropriate. It will be a tale that you’d expect only I could come up with in my sick and twisted head.

Let’s get to it. Shall we?

Part One:

She rolled out of the bed slowly as not to awaken the man next to her. Her head was still cloudy as she slowly made her way to the bathroom in the general direction in which her level of inebriation would recollect. She closed the door as not to allow the latch to slam shut and awaken the man left spent in the bed, simultaneously she clicked on the light. She caught her reflection if only briefly in the mirror. Her disgust in her decisions of the evening prior and the acts of debauchery in the room outside prevented her from making eye contact with herself. She had been here before. The men, the sex, the sneaking away in the night with a handful of stolen cash and pills from the medicine cabinet. She was no stranger to these times. “Get your shit together Angie, and get moving” her pounding head replayed like a defective iPod.

Angie was still too drunk and high to care or notice that the toilet seat was up. “Typical pig” Angie thought to herself as she lowered her ass down on the cold porcelain of the bowl. For a second she smiled and thought it felt good on the fresh welts across her bare ass. As she slowly flexed her Kegel muscles and strained to urinate she could feel the spent seed from the barely conscious man in the room next door leave her body. Outside of meeting at the bar the night before she didn’t know the man. This wasn’t her first rodeo with having unprotected sex with a strange man. She preferred it that way. The additional risk of contracting some strange disease from a nameless soul heightened her sexual gratification. Bareback Angie is what all the boys in the fraternity called her. She smiled at the distant memory as she continued to relieve herself in the sleeping mans master bath. Just as she was about to finish her stomach churned and she gulped. She wasn’t finished and continued to evacuate not only her bladder but also her bowels. “We’ll theres that steak from Thursday” Angie guessed to herself while holding back a slight gag from the odoriferous smell. It took a half a roll of toilet paper to sufficiently clean herself. Angie knew there was no way in hell what she deposited in the toilet with all the associated accoutrements were ever going to naturally see the inside plumbing of the structure she was soon to escape. “What the hell I’ll let sleeping Captain Asshole figure it out in the morning”. Bareback Angie also never flushes its her calling card.

Rifling through the mans medicine cabinet and pants on the bathroom floor Angie scored some hydrocodone, half a bottle of penicillin $130 in cash and what she guessed was some low grade Turkish hash. “Not a bad haul for an early Saturday morning” she hazily thought to herself. Angie turned off the light and slowly pushed open the bathroom door. She needed to find her clothes and she needed to get the hell out of that house.

Angie was soon on the floor on all fours. This wasn’t the first time she had been in this exact position. This time however there was no man behind her driving her face into the carpet. The man continued to snore from the bed as Angie felt around for her pants. She was safe for the time being but she could feel her anxiety building in her throbbing head to be anywhere but where she was.

Then it happened. How Angie kept from screaming even puzzled her. She knew what it was the moment it happened. “Its the assholes dog”. The man was an animal lover of sorts. Had an affinity for large American Bulldogs. “But he locked the dog in the kitchen what the fuck was he doing in the bedroom? What the fuck is this dog doing licking the crack of my ass?” Angie thought in a wave of terror as the cold nose of the dog gave a few whiffs of Angie’s stale balloon knot.

Angie was in trouble and she knew it. She tried to push the dog and “shoo” him away. Not happening. “Dozer” she recalled the man calling him last night was about eight pounds more then Angie weighed and built like a brick shithouse. Any attempt to stop the dog and Dozer in an octave lower then a pipe organ in the key of G would slowly growl and bare his teeth. The sleeping man would stir, snort and roll over to the other side of the bed each time the dog made a peep.

Angie was an admitted slut. Girls, boys, three ways you name it Angie had done it. There was even that one time in high school during a sleep over when she jerked off her friend Monica’s Golden Retriever for some school girl laughs in a game of spin the bottle. Angie had a feeling she was going to have to update the ol’ resume now.

Angie wasn’t getting off that easy tonight and for the second time in the last many hours Angie was getting railed from behind face in the carpet. This time it was Dozer the Pitbull doing the driving. Angie bit her lip to keep from wailing out. Soon it would be over. The dog will grunt hop off and Angie would be free, lucky in the fact he had stolen a half bottle of penicillin just a few short minutes before. She’d need the pills.

After Dozer had is way with Angie much as his master had a mere few hours before, he ambled back toward the kitchen to lay down near the air conditioning register in the floor. Dozer liked the cool air on his balls and often slept in the kitchen.

Angie knew her time was quickly counting down to vacate the premisses before the sleeping man or the dog awoke for a stab at round two. She finally found her pants and blouse crumpled in the corner of the room. Her thong panties were gone. She didn’t care. Angie slipped her pants and blouse on, stuffed the drugs and cash in a pocket and headed for the door. One shoe near the couch, and another was picked up by the front foyer. She bolted.

Angie had about a two mile walk back to the bar to get her car. Two miles is a decent distance to walk and think about how far ones life has slipped the bounds of decency. Bareback Angie however doesn’t think about these things. She does what she likes. She lives for no one but herself. On this particular walk back, Angie tried to categorize the evenings sexual encounter into a level of pleasure. She couldn’t do it. Her pause came knowing sex with animals is morally and ethically wrong, but for the life of her she couldn’t decide what she got more pleasure from. The unknown man or the unknown man’s faithful dog.

Angie crushed a Hydrocodone pill and snorted it. She debated whether to shower as soon as she got home or to wait and savor things. She was now torn and sexually aroused thinking about the unknown man and his dog. She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the unknown mans house.

One day she would go back……….


Ok, so there you have it. Part One of Angie’s Adventures. (working title) I like to flesh the characters out a bit so I can’t just jump in to the murder and whatnot. Hope you like it. Whats the next holiday? Valentines Day? Oh the possibilities!

Merry Christmas kids!

Let ‘er rip tater chips!

First TGIF of 2013 and its all downhill from here.

I recently read a great account about General Robert E. Lee at Gettysburg. Lee’s horse was named Traveller and was almost and damn near as beloved as General Lee himself. I thought to myself “Traveller” would be a good name for a baby boy.

See I would name my first son Traveller, Wolfgang, D’Artagnan, Patton, or HecktorJulioJesusMachoComacho, if said son was born of a questionable alien status of a rather latin mother with an incredible ass.  My name is Brock for Christ’s sake. I just cant name my first son Joe, or Mike. (no offense to any Joe or Mike out there) I have a heritage of naming first sons rather unique and masculine names to uphold. <insert Luca Brasi paying respects to the God Father Don Corleone on his daughters wedding day here>……Don Corleone, I am honored and grateful that you have invited me to your home on the wedding day of your daughter. And may their first child be a masculine child.

To my knowledge, I am not required or have been consulted to name any sons this week. Can’t imagine why….but hey we all have our crosses to bear.

However earlier this week at work there was a turn of events that when they happened I knew what would eventually come to pass the moment they started occurring. As you may be already aware from a previous blog post, Tuesday morning someone turned in a beautiful male Golden Retriever. Here’s the story.

Every morning at the shelter as you can imagine there is a certain routine that gets done day in and day out. We essentially empty the building out, (dogs into outside runs) and commence to douche out and sanitize the entire building. As you can imagine an animal shelter with upwards of 75-100 dogs at any time can get rather “hairy” in a normal day or night. We have industrial equipment and a pretty good system with any number of volunteers and the job gets done rather quickly. It is what it is. Although we start this process anywhere between 7 and 8am each day, we don’t actually open for business until about 11:30am in order to get all things needed to be done, done and ready for the general public.

I generally oversee all this morning routine and keep volunteers organized. If we’re short on help I jump in to get shit done.

Tuesday morning I’m running an automatic floor cleaning machine. iPhone/iPod earphones in ears some Johhny Cash or Jennings or Haggard blasting along. I look up and what comes running down the hall towards me? This guy.


No care in the world. Smile on his face. Not scared or stressed. Not even phased that I have what amounts to a big assed vacuum cleaner and pressure washer running making noise. Comes up to me and sits. I bend down and reach out to pet him and he lifts his paw and shakes my hand. I swear on my eyes its the truth. I pet him, he lays down, rolls onto his back and I rub his belly and if you know anything at all about dogs, then you know his rear leg is kicking like Chinese chicken.

I have adopted a Cocker Spaniel from this shelter in the past which is at home with me and I have documented here on this very blog. I love Lucas he’s my buddy and a great dog. I am, as I have also eluded to, single and live alone. So in the dog category I am content. I am not actively looking for another dog. I have had two dogs in the past and its not unknown to me or impossible to manage. So with this knowledge, you the reader should have some insight to my mindset about more dogs.

Back to the story and I am rubbing this retrievers stomach.

I am not going to lie, I laid eyes on this dog and my mind said within seconds. “I am taking this dog”.  The other side of my good sense kicked in much like the conversations between heavenly angles and satanic devils one has in their heads when weighing out rather rash decisions. It went something like this:

  • Calm down.
  • Lets find out where he came from.
  • Whats his story?
  • Why is he here?
  • Do I really need or want another dog?
  • Its a beautiful Golden Retriever!
  • He’s not too old!
  • Seems in good health some fleas and ear infection.
  • We’ll send to vet get him medicined up and cleaned up.
  • Fuck her! Fuck her brains out!  Wait! Sorry that was Animal House not me.

So I momentarily get a grip and calm down with good sense. Whew crisis averted.

Dog was found wandering around a Walmart parking lot in the area. Some guy gets a leash on him, looks for owner. No one knows who dog belongs to and no one claims him. This fella brings him to us Tuesday morning and there I was scratching his belly and shaking his paw. Eyes as big as saucers, my heart telling my mind to “shut the fuck up” and well.

In the words of Paul Harvey, “and now for the rest of the story”.

I check the dog in and get some paperwork started on him. Scan him for any microchips (none) and get him a nice clean room in the bow wow hotel. No clue what his name is. Male, good teeth, good coat, no outward anomaly. He looks to be between 5-7 years old. Probably been wandering around a while since his weight is a little low. Some fleas, some hot spots where he’s scratched himself raw because of the fleas. Has a slight ear infection in both ears, probably from mites or whatever the great outdoors has gotten in there in the last however long he’s been on his own. No big deals otherwise.

We start him on some pills for the fleas, testing him for heart worm. Next week he’ll go to vet to get his ears fixed, a rabies shot, health check out, and leave his nuts behind in exchange.

The rest of the week since this past Tuesday, I have been checking on him, walking him, taking him into the fenced yard to run around and shit in peace.

I remained calm and carried on with emotions in check. I swear, honest.

Until this afternoons walk.

I walked him and I stop to really look at him. He nudges between my legs sits down and looks out at the pound we where near and where I was looking. Yea, that was all she fucking wrote. I took him back inside to his room, took a black magic marker to his cage card, and wrote “Adopted–Brock”.

I dont know where this dog has been and it angers me why someone would abandon this guy in such a manner. Unless by some slim chance his real owners show up to claim him, I know where he’s going to be as soon as we get him healthy and fixed up.




An Open Letter to Lucille


Dear Lucille,

Six months ago yesterday, I told you goodbye not knowing I would never see you again. Since that time, your brother Rudy has joined you, and by now I am sure you have found Jasper, Bullet, and Sally.

You’ll be happy to know that I adopted another dog that needed a home. He’s a smaller Cocker Spaniel and has a lot of your traits. His name is Lucas. You probably know all this already. He plays with all your old toys and chews all your old bones. He especially likes the bones you chewed groves in with your teeth. His mouth is smaller you know. Lucas follows me around the house from room to room like you did and he jumps on the couch to  look out the window as you did.

I fight my memory trying to remember all the different looks you had. Some I can recall, but with time things are drifting further away. Your soft fur, your cold nose in my ear to wake me up in the morning and growling at the rabbits in the yard I miss, but you not being at the door when I get home I miss most.

Where ever you wound up I know you’re better now. Running, swimming, all day I am sure.  I know we’ll see each other again. I want you to know I am doing alright. You gave me the best thing in life. I tell anyone that listens, that I had the best and prettiest dog. You were so smart and never a problem even when you got sick.

You’re the bossy one so keep the rest of the pack in line. When I get there I’ll have your favorite egg nog and I’ll throw the frisbee for you until my arms fall off.

Miss you.


Friday’s Lunch and some new changes

Went out to lunch today with a friend to a local joint called Hurricane wings. It a small chain wing bar food type place. Nothing to write home about. I had the boneless Jamaican jerk wing nugget things.  Not bad, not near as hot as they should have been.

I shared an order of Parmasan and garlic fries with my lunch date while I got a chance to discuss this blog and some of the changes I wanted to make. The fries were actually better then the wing nuggets things or whatever the hell they may be. I have included a picture of the fries too.

Oh thats right. You may have noticed some changes around here. Guess I better explain.

The original system I was using to create the whatsupbrock.com blog was a little outdated and some of the features were broken since Apple stopped supporting the application. Comments especially were broken and the only way I could get them working was to code the ability myself which would take more time and effort then I cared to spend. Furthermore, why invent the wheel all over again. So I stepped up to big boy content management which you see here.

It will allow you and I a better chance to interact together here which was what I wanted from the beginning of this project.

Small disclaimer: In order to comment on posts the system may ask you for some information such as your name and a valid email address. It does this for a couple reasons, but mostly to try and deny spam bots from placing garbage comments. The system will ask for this information only on your first comment. Then as the admin of the site, I get to approve your first comment. From this point forward you wont have to submit the info and your comments will automatically appear since the system “thinks your a trusted source”. I promise you, not today, next week, next month or ever in the future will I sell or share your contact information. Enter something legit if you can so I know your not some Nigerian scumbag trying to scam some seed money for a large stockpile of gold I may have inherited from a dead relative. I just wanted you to hear this little bit from me and my mouth. Your info is safe if you choose to participate. I hope you do.

So I have some work to do. I do not want to abandon the first ten or so entries from the old site so I need to bring them over here with the pictures. I have a few things to clean up here as well. If you find something broken or stupid with the way this new system works please comment me, email, let me know. I’ll kick the Lama’s ass!

Thanks for your patience.


PS. My friend Amy who was my lunch date today is watching a couple of dogs for a friend of hers. This is Paddy. He’s Irish. He’s a Golden Retriever. He’s f’ing cute.


I got your back…..maybe

Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain.

With the rain in Shambala.

Wash away my sorrows, wash away my shame.

With the rain in Shambala.

Since Lucille has been gone I have been volunteering some hours at the local no-kill animal shelter. This little guy is currently going by the name Hershey.

Hershey is a guesstimated to be a two year old lab/retriever mix. As soon as I saw him I asked what his status was and was told he was already adopted but the family was on vacation and going to pick him up when they return.

I breathed a sigh of relief. To be honest I wasn’t sure if I was ready for another dog. Then I felt guilt about losing Lucille and how easily it could be to replace her. So knowing that he may be getting another home was a relief.

Then I fucked up.

I started hanging with Hershey on the days I would work at the shelter. He is good boy and a lover. The bastard! Seems to be housebroken knows sit and shake paw. Like Lucille used to be, he’ll chase tennis balls either till your arm falls off or he collapses from exhaustion. I take him swimming in the pool and walk him often. Mostly when I am not cleaning up shit or piss at the shelter, I go down to his room and hang with him on the floor. He’ll come up to me and put his paw in my shoulder and look at me, like “come on man lets get the fuck out of here” then lick my face or ear.

I pretty much have told the shelter, that if the adoption falls through or the people never show back up to get him that he coming home with me.

Most likely he go home to a decent family. My hopes anyway. If not he’s goddamned mine.

Im not particularly religious or spiritual but I tend to side with fate and karma more times then not. Hershey was put in my path for a reason. I am guessing to spend a little time with me to show me that it was ok to move away from the hurt of losing Lucille and finding another dog. If thats the reason, I’ll take it and wait for the next dog to come along my path that needs me as I need him/her. Strange how things work out sometimes. What little time I get to spend with this dog between now and the nineteenth of the month when his new family is supposed to pick him up, he’ll get the hook up with treats and extra food. I wont forget what he did for me. If that family doesn’t come back for him or change their mind, i’ll show him what he did for me for the rest of his life. In my home.

TGIF or how I woke up and thought..


I dont care if it rains or freezes long as I got my plastic Jesus riding on the dashboard of my car.

Goin ninety I aint scary cause I got the virgin mary assuring me that i wont go to hell.

…the best movie in the world, ok maybe not “The Best” but my top five short list of best movies in the world is Cool Hand Luke. I have pretty much modeled my life after the main character Lucas Jackson albeit subconsciously most of the times.

Hell I named the best dog I ever owned and loved “Lucille” after one of the characters in the movie.

If you have not seen the movie, rent it, buy it, amazon it whatever. You’ll watch it at least twenty-sixteen times or something. I swear.

Anyway, without spoiling the movie, Luke is a one of a kind, natural born world shaker. His mother dies while he’s in the road gang and he gets put in “the box” for no reason other then in case he tries to escape for her funeral. He does escape a few times gets caught each time, but jail, the bosses and the captain cant break him. Remind of you anyone yet..lol

Throughout the movie Newman’s character has an internal battle with the man upstairs (God) about giving him a sign or something to show him what he is supposed to do with his life.

Now I cant say that I have much the same debate with God or whatever my higher power may be from one week to another about doing something with my life, but I can relate in a way to Luke in this regard.

You see if there is a God or some kind of Devine higher power, that son of a bitch took my Lucille away from me at the ripe old age of four and half years old. She was still a fucking puppy in my eyes with a shit ton of good years ahead of her.

“….for reasons you don’t know he/she/it has a plan and we don’t always know the bigger picture.”

Yea what the hell ever.

“…..maybe your karma is bad”

I pretty much live my life by a few simple principles. Try and be kind, treat others fairly and with respect. Lastly in the almighty words of Tony Montana “I aint never fucked nobody over that didn’t have it coming to him, and in this world all I got is my balls and my word and I don’t break them for no one.” Oh look another movie mantra I live by, starting to see a pattern here.

So I question this whole faith in the higher power thing. In the big picture or plan, who am I really? I don’t really take or give, I cared pretty much about one thing in life and it was that Golden Retriever. In the grand scheme of things what was the significance of me or Lucille or allowing her at such a young age to get a mass on her spleen?

“…simple science and biology man, these things happen, there is no control just bad luck.”

Yeah I know, and I have honestly accepted that. But it doesn’t make the battle with faith in our higher power any less problematic. That this happened goes against everything faith supposedly teaches us.

Is there a heaven and hell? I don’t know. So far in life I have done enough and frankly have the sky miles to upgrade to a first class seat to both locations. Is this the reason Lucille is gone? I recognize and try to live life on the good side of the equation of the force and not go to the dark side. The whole fear leads to anger, anger leads to…..oh wait thats George Lucas…fuck another movie.

I am so screwed…..Lucille I love you and miss you baby girl. Find God or Lucifer or Yoda and I will see you again at another time. Some day I may get another dog, she wont be another Lucille but she may be a “Dragline” or a “Coconut Head- Koko” or a “Babalugats”.

This entry is dedicated to Lucille Retriever Kingston 2007-2012