Read Fakebook for Free Online Page B

3—one hour later:
    Dave Cicirelli
Benn insists on wearing th eoutfit. Says its gonnna get him laid!!?!
    Like · Comment
    POST 4—half hour later:
    Dave Cicirelli
the MANN!!!

    Like · Comment · Share
    POST 5—half hour later:
    Dave Cicirelli
I said we should fly a kite…The guy sobered up instantly. I’ve neverr seen anyone so focused.

    Like · Comment · Share
    â€œSorry, Dave, but this is terrible. I get that you want to push it, but wait until you’re out in the middle of nowhere. People know Philadelphia. It’s too soon for this sort of thing.”
    â€œToo soon?”
    Christine paused and collected her thoughts.
    â€œIt’s like when we launch a campaign,” she said. “You can’t just launch it; you need to prepare people for it. It’s like a long lead. You start to build an audience slowly at first with smaller activations, smaller programs—build equity. That way people will already be looking when you do something big.
    â€œYou need people to find this, to get a foundation of followers. Take a month of just walking along—let people still be excited by the fact that you quit your job before you start pushing it. If you’re going to Philly, do the Rocky steps, visit friends, things like that. Make it uneventful, because if you go through with this like it is now, you’re going to blow it.”
    â€œI’ll have to think about it.”

    I walked home, kicking Christine’s advice around in my head. I wanted to push this thing as far as I could as quickly as possible, but she was right—the initial shock of walking out on my life was enough to sustain people’s interest for more than just a few days.
    I’d been thinking of Facebook as this big, dumb thing that served no purpose other than showing me pictures of the burrito someone I barely remembered from high school was about to eat. My aim was to take something strange and then make it stranger—to confound and, really, to entertain.
    But there were those notes I was still avoiding—those messages that showed me that Facebook was something more than just absurd. What I was pretending to do out on the road mattered to people, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore that.
    The loose approach I’d originally envisioned—the rapid-fire sensationalism, the increasingly unlikely events—wasn’t the right approach anymore. I was going about it all wrong. Fakebook was only a week old and I needed to adjust.
    I thought back again to my MTV misadventure and how much I’d had to scramble to take that as far as I could.

    â€œHey, is this Dave…Sicker…ell…ee?”
    â€œCicirelli,” I said into the phone in my kitchen. “It rhymes with ‘sister-smelly.’ Who is this?”
    â€œHey! This is Kadisha, from MTV.” She sounded beautiful and cool, and her call filled me with dread.
    â€œâ€¦Yeah?”
    â€œWe got your email. We love your look. We love your style. Any chance you could come in and audition for the show tomorrow?”
    I was more than a little stunned. I’d had no inkling that my hoax would ever work, and now I was panicking. I’d been called out on a lie before, but never by a major media conglomerate.
    â€œâ€¦Uh, sure.”
    â€œGreat! See you then, 10:00 a.m.! Oh, one more thing,” Kadisha said. “We need you to record a tape of you at home. Be sure to use all those Limp Bizkit posters as a backdrop!”
    Uh oh…those posters didn’t exist. They were just images I’d grabbed off eBay and photoshopped in.
    â€œHey, I just remembered. I have an exam tomorrow. Can we do it Thursday instead?”
    â€œNo problem. See you then!”
    The next day I skipped class and crisscrossed the state, going from Spencer Gifts to Spencer Gifts, until I had bought up every Limp Bizkit poster in New Jersey. All the while I had my Discman playing through