December 25, 1992

We had a very enjoyable Christmas. I haven’t yet gone to my father’s house, but E is here. She has had a very bad Christmas (gift day) and so we gave her some alcohol. Will write more later.

I don’t think this is the only Christmas E got alcohol at my house. One year (it may have been this one), when my dad came to pick me up to bring me over to his house for the remainder of the holiday, we also brought E home. She trudged, TRUDGED!, from the car to her door – head down, shoulders forward, sad, slow, stilted walk. My dad laughed and laughed, because it was THAT PATHETIC. He claims to have no recollection of this, though, probably because it sounds mean to him now.

A variety of topics are then covered, including a new pen that E gave me which is a fountain pen, because, apparently, E really GOT me. I loved this pen and will write later in the journals about how handy it would be to kill people with it. It also made my handwriting really crappy and much of the rest of the book is pretty hard to read because of this. Also, I got my first CD player. No more cassette tapes for me!!! Or 45s, because I bought those for an embarrassingly long time. When I read about the CD player, I assumed that I was far behind the times in getting one in 1992, because my family always seemed to be late adopters. However, I looked up an article about consumer adoption of compact disks and compact disk players (because that’s how I roll), which shows quarterly sales from 1985 to 1992 and it seems like I was probably later than many, but not embarrassingly so. I can’t show you the graphs here due to copyright, but here’s a shitty facsimile.

CDplayersales

I don’t have very much to say in times like these.

??? It seems like I was having a nice day up until this line. Maybe I meant that I don’t have much to write when I’m not completely miserable.

Elliot ate an enormous amount of chocolate today and now everyone keeps making jokes about him dying. But our family would be in unbearable mourning if anything were to happen to our baby Elliot. Even C [my brother] can’t stay mad at him…

This section descends into crazy. Apparently, this is just the way I was about my dog. Let me paraphrase it for you:

Elliot is best fucking dog EVER!!!
evereverever PERIOD!!!
He’s EVERYTHINGAMAZINGINDOGS He can FLY!
I lovehimsomuch !!!!!!!! OMFG!!!!!
YOU BETTER NOT CALL HIM A COMMA!!!
Myheartisclawingthroughmyribcage!
Your dog is garbage!
GARBAGE! compared to Elliot So are you!
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WILL CUT YOU!!!!

I guess that’s just how everyone feels about their dog, though.

I think that I try to make my family proud by making them laugh. Especially my dad. If I make my father laugh, I always feel very proud and wanted and such.

This is basically true. My father loves to laugh and everyone wants to make him laugh. And then laugh at him laughing.

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