Letters to Wof

Wof is the World's Okayest Friend, she may have started out as a real person but I'm not sure she is anymore. She's just Wof, and well that's as okay as it gets. I write her letters, she doesn't respond, so I write her more letters. It's most likely because she exists on a plain that you don't have access to. But rest assured if she ever does respond I'll be sure to share.

Disclaimer: These letters are filled with words. Some 4 letter, some 3 letter, but typically less than 13 letter. These words make sentences which when combined create the letter. If you do not like what you are reading you have every right to rearrange the words or opt out completely. An intact letter may be filled with cheekiness, sass, one sided conversations, bad jokes(of all types), language(typically English), self deprecation, ego, and hints of passive aggression.

For example: "For spelling and grammar please see the 3rd finger from left(this includes your thumb if you are counting from that side), if you are missing fingers just assume the second, or you can email me which ever is easier. The truth of the matter is that I wouldn't flip you the bird. I just thought it was funny. But seriously if the grammar is that bad, delicately give me a few pointers."

I'm pretty sure they are going to let you down in more ways than one, and may even lower my rankings as a human being in your mind. Without further ado welcome to Letters to Wof.

Whoops...one more ado. You're going to have to scroll down or use a quick link below :)

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Dear Wof,

An idea has come to me. Imagine that, cognitive functions A-Okay. Anyways, I’m going to share our letters to the world! Why? Because it’s a better alternative than trying to take it over. And it’s going to make us me MILLIONS of $$$$$$$. Readers will be dying to know all about our one-sided conversations. Maybe even literally from the boring content that revolves around yours truly. They’ll be wondering, how will WOF respond and they’ll be left to wrestle with those wonders. I mean you’re only the Worlds Okayest Friend, so that’s perfectly acceptable. And! I don’t intend to share any of the spoils, unless they are rotten then you can have those. I’m so very generous. It would behoove you to start prepping for the paparazzi though. Some sun glasses would go a long way. The big ones that cover most of your face. Yeah, that would help us all.  ;)

A pinch of sarcasm,

~ dmp

P.S – Seriously though. The big dark sunglasses. Oh, with mirrored lenses so I can see myself a little better.
P.P.S – It just occurred to me that Wof could also be Worst Okayest Friend, or for that matter a series of other things. We’ll have to save that for another day.

Dear Wof,

I have a saying. Do you know what I do with it? I say it. Imagine that. A saying you say. Yep, border line genius. It goes like this. Drum roll please. Dadadadadadaddadada. Is that how you write a drum roll? Did the stutter throw you off. That lone double d. Yep, on purpose, let your OCd embrace that. Also on purposE. Ha!

Think on what you have, not what you don’t, and you’ll be happier.

If someone ever asks who the great man who said that was, say Abraham Lincoln tweeted it. They’ll be confused, but I’m pretty sure you can convince them it was true. Now, you know what I do with that saying? You should. I’ve already answered that. I say it of course, but when I’m lonely AF(As Fuck). Just in case you didn’t get the acronym. I don’t have a problem being lonely, I’d rather be lonely than be with the wrong person. But still, sometimes I just wish I had a wife, and family. I like to think I’m going to be a professional Dad someday. Minus the money part. Not sure you can make money being a Dad? Seems like a good way to lose it. But I don’t have any of that, it’s just not the right time. Wishing it was doesn’t get me anything but a slight panic. I’m what, 33 and SINGLE! Yeah, see what I mean.

Think on what you have. That makes life a lot more pleasant. I have so much to be thankful for. I’ve got an awesome job, some incredible friends, and a wonderful family with nephews and nieces. And not to brag but I’m definitely the cool uncle! You’re just the Okayest Aunt.



P.S – Also note: I am not including you in any of the thanksgiving. Doing so might raise your rank, and we better not do that.

Dear Wof,

When I was in sixth grade, I got one step closer to learning what it took to be cool. How? Well by learning what it took to not be. When you are dubbed “Brain” followed by a numeral(which means a number, like Brain 1, Brain 2, etc.) then you’ve most certainly learned how not to be. I made up a whopping 50% of the Brain populous. I took the humble number of 2. The first looser if you will, which in this case was one step closer to a winner. Slightly less brainy than Brain 1. Which I confess I may have wanted for a brief lapse in judgement. Now, being a Brain meet a few things, but one that was very important. It meant that some of the cool kids wanted you around. Which at first may seem as if you’ve reached cool kid status, but the truth is you just became the host for the parasite. Now, I’m not saying all cool kids are parasites, just the ones that feed on “Brains!”. Yep, brains just like a zombie. They’re all buddy buddy with you come test time, or when the homework is due, but rest assured if you ever go to one of their parties you will be shaving creamed while you sleep. Not that I would know. So Step 1 in how to be cool, don’t be a Brain. You’ll have to pay for Step 2, 3 and so on…or wait until I figure them out.

Signing out,

~ dmp

P.S – Upon entering middle school, the BSM(Brain Status Model) was completely eradicated due to an over saturated Brain market. Turns out not every nerd is brain, and the BSM started to create sects in the nerdom(The Nerd Kingdon). It’s complicated, hence it’s eradication and the NSTA(Nerds Stick Together Act). And, no it’s not real but it sounded good.

Dear Wof,

I used to dream of falling in love. No, not the wet kind. The pure innocent kind, a happily ever after. I could see myself sleeping with a beautiful blonde. No, not you and get your mind out of the gutter. I was just holding her, that’s not to say clothing wasn’t optional. But that’s all I wanted. Just someone to hold, and have family with.

When I actually did fall in love, oh man, did I fall. I might as well have jumped off a building. And you know what happened, I decked. Yep, I hit the ground and she wasn’t there. My heart bounced like a cannon ball. I haven’t loved like that since, and every time I’ve gotten close when I’m about to jump, I step back. There’s a slight chance that the girl does every now and then, but let’s not hurt my ego. For the most part it’s been a good thing, but I’ll spare you those details. The human heart is just weird, but what are you going to do. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, I’m going to take Gentri for a walk. She significantly increases my odds of meeting someone.

Like a Boss,


Dear Wof,

I have a funny story for you! Yes, you’re going to laugh. This morning I woke up. If I hadn’t it would be safe to assume that I would be incapable of writing this. Well I guess I could have awoken a zombie, in which case I would still be incapable. But that has nothing to do with the story. Upon awakening I found a clear crusty substance on the sheets. Now I know what you’re thinking and I haven’t owned a bottle of Elmer’s craft glue in years so that was most definitely not it. It could have been egg whites but that would be more runny, and this has more of a jelly consistency.

When my bitch rolled over, I felt residue on her tummy and all over the inside of her legs. So, I grabbed a warm wash cloth and began to clean her. The drying goo was everywhere. I no idea of what it could be until further examination of her nipples. White droplets were beading up. I squeezed her skin and pew, pew. Said like you’d make a laser sound. Streams of white shot out. Substance detected! Gentri is lactating! Apparently some dogs have false pregnancies after their cycle. Guess she’s one of them.

True story,

~ dmp

P.S : If you need any dog cheese let me know. JK ;)

Dear Wof,

I can’t sleep, and it’s for one reason. If only it was because I was thinking about you. But nope, don’t have that kind of time. Instead, I have 2 out of 4 paws pressing into my back. That’s failing by school standards, but Gentri doesn’t mind at all. She’s perfectly content with 2/3’s of the bed, 75% of the sheets, and 50% of her paws on my back. I’d say she’s doing pretty well for herself. Any attempt at moving her resorts in passive aggressive grunts, or a paw to the face in the morning. So sorry to inconvenience you dog. Her response, “Ehmm.” Which translated means, “Bitch needs her sleep!” Wait, she just turned over, I can sleep now. :)

~ dmp

Dear Wof,

Have you ever thought about how much birth plays into who we are, how we think, and what we become? I was born handsome, humble, and down right studdly. We can’t all be so lucky. On top of that I was born an MPWK (Mostly Privileged White Kid). I had to work for somethings, but many others were given to me. It’s my birth right. Seems a little skewed to me, but what are you going to do?

I was born to a hard working family in Bible belt USA and raised by fantastic parents. Not everyone can say that. The circumstances of my existence set me up to succeed at some things with far less resistance than other humans, but the opposite can also come into play. I’m intentionally staying vague. “Some things” might only include checkers but honestly I’m not too good at that game. All of this because I was born. That’s the fourth time I’ve said it, so hopefully you’ve figured out by now that I was indeed born.

I blame my thoughts on those books you’ve got me reading. “Dwayne, you need GoT in your life!” Yeah, I’m mocking you right now but I am not complaining. You may have indeed been right, but we will save that admission for the final book. My favorite is still John Snow but a bastard hardly has birth rights. Those rights are everything in the Game of Thrones. Even though we I don’t call it “Birth Rights” today, it sure does seem like it exists.

Winter is Coming,


Dear Wof,

For the last few weeks I have been waking up at 6:00am with the goal being to get a solid 40hrs of work in every week. Waking up for me if quite the process, so when I say 6:00am I really mean out of bed by 7:30am. I set about 10 alarms each night, and the first goes off at 6, then there is an alarm every 15 minutes until 8:30. The last 4 alarms are fail safes to make sure that I get out of bed. So far my plan has worked!

I’ve also committed to doing pushups first thing. I do as many as I can in my jammys, then repeat the process as soon I’m dressed, and sometimes again right before I leave. I read somewhere that doing something physical will help you focus at work. On top of that I’ve been needing to work my antagonist muscles to compliment the pulling muscles of climbing.

And circling back. The first alarm goes off at 6 and startles me awake, engaging my favorite kind of sleep state. The snooze. You’re almost awake but not quite. You are aware of the time passing and yet still sleeping. It feels so good, and right before you get back into deep sleep…BEEP! BEEP! You are startled awake again only to realize it’s only 6:15 and you can enter snooze mode again :). By the 5th time you’ve done this, you’re almost fully awake and prepared to get out of bed. Satisfied with the number of times you were able to snooze.

I’m pretty sure this method is not going to fly with a partner. Note to self: Looking for a girl who will let me snooze 5 alarms but won’t repay me in kind.

~ dmp

Dear Wof,

We can’t all be as perfect as myself. It’s a lot of pressure when everyone likes you, laughs at your jokes, and envy’s your very prescience. That’s a burden I must bear, and I won’t trouble you with it. But today, I have a frustration I want to share with you. Two messages prompted this. Here they are followed and an over-analysis:

Suicide is the easy way out…

Do you see the insult here? Imagine you are the parent of child who chose suicide…This statement sings all kinds of insult. It’s heart breaking. It says: Your child took the easy way out. Your child was weak. Your child was a coward. Your child was selfish. This kind of statement seems like a cheap way to say what you really feel. Which if I may attempt is: Suicide is painful for the ones that are left behind. A totally different statement but I think most would agree it’s true and it’s meaning is so much clearer. At least to me. The next:

Come as you are…

Bet you can’t guess where I saw this? It was on a church billboard. Gosh, I’ve even said this. It seems like such a good message but it’s what it doesn’t say that hit me. This time when I read it, I saw: Come as you are…because you need fixing….so we(or God) can change who you are. I saw the “come as you are” as temporary. You’re welcome to come as you are, because who you are is going to change and that’s what we want. And this could go on and on, but I’ll let it be for now. I just never saw it like that before, and in a world where self worth is pretty damn low and self identity is clear as mud it certainly struck a minor chord.

That’s too much thinking on this non-sense. I’m trying to see the heart behind the message, and for the most part I think that’s good but words are so much louder than intention. And to end a quote from GoT.

Words are like arrows. Once loosed, you cannot call them back. ~Doran Martell

As perfect as I am, I certainly could work on taming my tongue a little more but don’t think that means I’m going to hold back my zingers from you ;)

~ dmp

Dear Wof,

I feel like I’ve been on a walkabout for some 4 years now. A friend of mine says:

Dwayne, you know you’re like a fart in the wind. You just never know where you’re going to waft.

And he’s right about one thing…I smell. Another friend of mind told me.

Dwayne, I don’t know what you’re doing but you’re on some sort of journey. I like it.

I have been. I’ve been searching for something and I haven’t been able to articulate just what that something is. Some might say it’s meaning, or purpose, but that’s not quite it. The only way I know how explain it, is to say I know when my life does not feel right. When it doesn’t, I try to make changes to fix that. Some might say they’ve been a little drastic.

Let brief you: In 2014 I left home to walk 2K miles. 2015 started with a road trip across the United States which I rounded out the year by once again dropping everything and driving to the top of Alaska. In 2016 I went on a series of mini(and many) trips amounting to about 40K miles throughout North America.  Then in 2017, you’ll never guess but I moved to Missoula, Montana. The worst part, I didn’t get a single good photo, find a halfway decent camping spot, nor see a single mountain. What’s wrong with this country, there’s just nothing beautiful around here…I’m holding up a sarcasm sign just in case you need the queue.

As drastic as each choice has been, I think I’ve really made some progress. I even know that the meaning of life! Spoiler Alert…It’s 42. If that doesn’t make since you’ll just have to discover it on your on.

Here’s to the journey,


P.S – Don’t Panic