Back in the day, when I was fucking my way through the internet, I met quite a variety of people. You may have read some of my previous entries in the I Fucked The Internet series.

This particular entry is a bit different because I did not write it. At least not all of it. Seems strange, but let me explain. See, when I first met my friend Leyna, I went to her house and she had me sign a guest book. It was basically just a little book with blank pages where friends could sign their name, or leave a little note. Along with it she’d take a picture of them and post it in the book. This was just about the coolest idea ever, in my opinion. Imagine if you had a book, complete with pictures, signed by all of the people who ever visited you over the years. I had to have one of my own. So I went out and purchased what was actually a sketch book. Hard cover, pristine white pages of heavy stock, and even a little elastic band that held it closed. I was ready to have my friends, old and new, create entries that I could look back on years later with fond nostalgia. As the inspiration for the book, Leyna of course got the first entry. It was, like her, beautiful, sweet, and to the point. It read:

“You are one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. A man that can always put a smile on my face…a smart…intelligent…warm…beautiful human being. I can’t imagine my life without you. You have filled a gap in my life that I didn’t realize was there. I’m excited to keep making memories and learning from you. You’re an extraordinary person and I’m so warm and fuzzy when I think about you. I’m a lucky girl to have you as a friend. I will always be there for you. I love you.
-Leyna”

It’s the perfect example of what the book was meant to become. Something of importance, of meaning, to cherish all of my life, and maybe one day share with my children.

“See kids, it’s important to have friends who love and care about you. Your Aunt Leyna wrote this to me many years ago and to this day we’re still friends. We should all be so lucky to have lives filled with wonderful people. And your dear old dad was loved by many.”

My kids would be proud and impressed. They’d read through the book and understand the meaning of love, friendship and memories. They would go on to find the same love and friendship in their lives, just like their pops.

However, as most of my life plans do, the book idea went awry, amiss, and astray. Because the very next entry, written the very next evening, was this:

“Frankie, (this was written when I was really fucked up). Oh my god! I had the best time of my life tonight! Fucking around, Frankie touching my tits right now! Wow Wow Wow! I’m going NUTS! I will sign later! cuz right now I can’t! (Sorry it’s so sloppy, I am really buzzed) I don’t write like this………I will have another chance he said when I’m not filled w/ alcohol! O.K.?—O.K.?”

Can you see where this is going?

This is one from literally four days after that one. It was written in the morning.

“As I sit here, panties gone, I wonder what to write. I have no more brain. I think someone fucked it out of my head last night, this morning and like 15 minutes ago.
I am so glad I got to finally meet Frank. I can’t wait to read my testimonial on Friendster. He’s probably going to say I’m crazy. Unfortunately, he got to see a dark side of me. I guess it’s better to get it out of the way, right?
Loved the fake provolone. Made me horny. And crazy. Can’t think anymore. Hungover. I wonder if I’ll ever see Frank again.
“Dry as a bone, hard as a rock” That describes our evening. Ok, maybe not. At least the dry part.
Gonna shower now. Oh, my pills.”

So now my kids are gonna be dirty fucking drunken whores, much like their old man. And they can chronicle it for their children, and their children’s children on down the line until one day, sitting in the middle of a room full of passed out space strippers from Planet Titulon, having just banged them all directly in the butt, the 43rd descendent of Cyber Clan Bad Ass of Earth will hold high that first tattered tome, started by a relative from eons in his past and proclaim,

“In the name of my blessed forefather Bad Ass Frank, and the holy guest book of whoredom, I hereby declare that I, BAF the 43rd, have followed the path of my ancestors and ACHIEVED MY DESTINY”

Then he’ll die instantly of some deadly hybrid strain of chlamydia.

All because of that damn guest book.