Hooray for Me: a Foggy Memoir

By Ello Black

Can a tubby girl take on all of life's obstacles and slay them in victory?!?! Probably not, but she does have fun trying in Hooray for Me: a Foggy Memoir by self-proclaimed-brilliant author, Ello Black

This historical non-fiction remembrance of what I remember is in this book. Hooray for Me: a Foggy Memoir has already been hailed as one of the easiest books to download-- ever!

While writing Hooray for Me: a Foggy Memoir, I was asked several questions-
What is this book about?
How much vodka will I need consume to get through it?
Why did you want to write a memoir and not a book about tormented, metro-sexual vampires?
Does anybody use the word metro-sexual anymore?
Didn't you just buy three packs of bacon yesterday?
and of course, my favorite--
I've changed the locks twice-- How the hell did you get in here?!?!

Hooray for Me is a compilation of compiled stories that are typed because my handwriting is worse than a doctor filling out a prescription with a fountain pen, while riding in a NYC cab, when it's sleeting. And, I'm not sure why this doctor is filing out a prescription in a cab, but I would avoid said doctor, that sounds way too shady for me. Yeh, now that I think of it, don't go to that doctor.

After reading Hooray for Me you will probably be so sad and want to read 500 pages more- you may even fall into a mild to moderate depression after reading it (for other reasons) but please don't fret- my next novel will be out shortly!

Until then please read Hooray for Me: a Foggy Memoir, I think you will really enjoy it as much as I did.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ello Black
• Release date: Mar 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301607211

Ello Black

Ello Black is a writer of stage and screen, well, mainly television and a few upcoming 'blockbuster predicted' films. Ello has mild cleaning O.C.D. that makes her the perfect weekend house guest if you have a project that needs organization or interior painting or an entire room that is horder-horrific. Ello's hobbies include: Insomnia, bacon, drunk dialing while sober, avoiding reality tv, calling her trainer with elaborate yet hollow excuses for not going to workout, cooking some kickass tasting meals, building a fort with her attorney's office furniture when she steps away from her desk, drinking seltzer, denying paternity, reading books about quantum and nuclear physics and more bacon. Go here to LIKE the Hooray for Me FB page: http://www.facebook.com/hoorayformememoir Please feel free to check out these ello sites for more ello information- www.hoorayforme.net www.writerzblox.com

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Hooray For Me:

a Foggy Memoir

By Ello Black

~~~

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 A Pony Named Alice Productions

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Print ISBN- 13: 978-0615660585

Print ISBN-10: 0615660584

Woot To You-

To my elloplatinum pals in no particular alphabetical order:

Marcus A. Butler, Melissa Driggers, Lara Huff, Michael Leleux,

Robert Leleux, Melissa M. Miller, and Jayson Rivera

In some way, these amazing folks have made my life

a much better place to be in every way:

Ranae Alex, Lindsay Barbee, Donna & Clayton Bailey, Steven Baum, Brandy Lee Bentacourt, Valerie Bertinelli, Cate Blanchett, Sandra Bullock, Ben ‘Jiggs’ Burgess, Gerald Butler, Stephanie Cadena, Jonathan Charles, Linda Cheng, Betty Chin, Emily Choi, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Dr. Hal Conwell, Kevin Cooney, Cameron Davis, Jan Dawes, Michelle Delgado, Lisa Devine, James ‘Doc’ Driggers, Danny Dyer, Tina Fey, Jackie Garis, Sara Michelle Gellar, Matt and Crys Gorman, Amy Grant, Vivian Jeehee Ham, Kris Hanssen, Jill Hennessy, Katherine Hepburn, Dian Herrod, Robert & Cindy Hess, Jenn Hill, Curtis Howard, Fatima Hurd, Kyoko Inose, HeeSeung Jang, Greg & Julie Jbara, Joanne Jester, Brenda Johnson, Dallas Jones, Tracilyn Jones, Kyoko Kawabata, David Kelly, Benjamin ‘short-pants’ Key, April Keith, Nicole Kidman, Carole King, Satomi Kinoshita, Shonda Lackey, Mikki Lanclos, Holli Leggett, Hunter Lewis, Ray Liotta, Ken & Kristi Lohr, Michelle Luhan, Mary McDonnell, Maureen Mcintyre, Jill Kropp Manty, Manda Merino, Janette Michael, Liam Neeson, Rosie O’Donnell, Oprah, Clive Owen, Grace Park, Nicole Parker, Dolly Parton, Patrick ‘Fiancé’ Pearson, Tracy Perthuis, Michelle Pfeiffer, Kittaya Phandee, Aimee Pingenot, Alice Pollock, Aryn Priest, Tey Punsalan, Shu Qi, Gilda Radner, Jule Jo Ramirez, Masuma Rasheed, Julia Roberts, Oliver Saks, Helen Lee Santiago, Susan Sarandon, Maliza Sarmiento, Sue Smith Schechter, Sarah Schoofs, Shannon Seaton, Christa Seekatz, Maria Shriver, Adeepa Singh, Tina Sloan, Danyale Taylor, Angela Towler, Dr. Hal Towler, Tilar ‘W.C.E.’ Troung, Deb and Derek van Eck, Stephanie Weiss, Adrienne Whitaker, Bryan-Keyth Wilson, Jessica Wilson, Jeremy & Danielle & Kane Wilton, Dapheny Wono. And my fantastic cousins- Cat, David, Josh and Mike.

And to my amazing Therapist- for never giving up on me

and never using pepper spray on me.

In very loving memory of

Margaret Conwell, Dr. James R. Miller and Dr. Thomas F. Soare.

My grandparents: Beatus, Marjorie, Katherine and Mikhail.

Dedicated to my amazing father: Jakob.

I miss you Daddy.

Love, Kid

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

1 OLIVE BABY

2. THE JELLO AND MS. JONES

3. LOBSTER TALES

4. FINANCIAL FUN

5. SAUSAGE PARTY

6. UNABOMBER DAD

7. DAD CAUGHT A BACKACHE

8. SIDEWALK CHALK

9. STUFF THAT HAPPENED THAT MADE ME LAUGH

That You May Not Find Funny

This is My Book Not Yours So Go Write

Your Own Damn Memoir.

POST-PLAY ANALYSIS

Q and A

Prologue

Good day to you all. I’m Ello Black and I want to thank you for taking the time to read my very first autobiographical memoir about me. I am thrilled to have this fantastic opportunity to write this book chock-full of stuff I remember. Now there may be some folks mentioned (I changed the names of the guilty cause I don’t wanna catch a court case) that have a different recollection of some key aspects in this extemporary presentation. Everyone remembers things differently and recalls things separately. That is completely normal. Let me state kindly that if anyone disagrees with my recollection of these events-

Just accept that you are wrong.

The sooner you do that- The sooner the healing can begin.

And please don’t write me emails about ‘grammar this’ and ‘spelling that.’ In fact, if you don’t find improper punctuation in this memoir, please report to your nearest 6th grade Grammar Enhancement Center. Just suspend your disbelief on the syntax and relax. I’m very grateful to you for taking the time to read this book and to whoever taught you how to read as well.

Thank you and enjoy this journey.

1 OLIVE BABY

I was born late July in a dusty Texas town, the only child of a computer systems analyst mother and a chemical engineer father. My parents were excited that day but they were scared (not only of the disturbing ultra-sound images). Like many couples just starting out, they didn’t feel they were fiscally ready to have kids and uncertain of the future in general. No reading materials, seminars or loved one’s rehashed parental accounts can really prepare anyone for being a parent. Every parent has their own unique experience with every child. I wrote this memoir without ever having had children nor ever wanting to. I firmly believed the wives’ tale that your kids will kick back 3 times the trouble that you gave your folks, and that is 3x’s way too much for me to deal with…ever.

From my conception, I gave my mother a very difficult time.

I swear, I really didn’t mean to (*cough-grin*).

From the minute my mother went to the doctor to complain that she needed a lesser dose of birth control pills because the prescription she was on made her very nauseous, especially in the morning…

After she left the doctor’s office, she had discovered that she was carrying proof that the pill was 94% effective, and in fact was experiencing morning sickness which intensified to afternoon, evening, late night and then early morning. It stopped around her fourth month. My mother was a tiny woman (in size, not strength). She weighed about 100 pounds and with a newly acquired and quick growing bowling ball, she was unable to lie down and breathe at the same time. I was doing some fetal home remodeling by trying to turn my incubating quarters from a studio flat into a full out condo, and to do that I made the bottom of her lungs my bed and dayroom. My parents worked several jobs at once during that time foreboding with the double duty of dredging up and away from the common sprouting, young, newlywed poverty level and preparing for a newborn they had taken prophylactic precautions to insure wouldn’t show up for at least three years from that time. Basically, they had no real money to speak of, and now my soon to be mother could not get proper rest to tackle her part of a 16 hour, 2 job day. To help her out, my mother’s parents bought a leather deep cushioned reclining chair for my mother to sleep in as comfortably as possible while sitting up. My parents were very grateful for this gift; still, the most comfortable recliner had to be agony for my mother to use as a bed for five months. Not to mention I graduated from womb/home extension to practicing pre-natal karate kicks and disco dance moves. Her petite tummy walls were decorated with fresh purple bruises on the outside, overpowering the older, healing tan and blue contusions that splotched nearby. My mother’s belly looked like a Monet sky for months and constantly ached and pinched her- sometimes to tears. I don’t know if it was the lack of space or my high powered, super baby strength that tortured the poor woman nine months before I’d taken my first breath.

My mother did not really care for olives of any kind, yet sometime into her pregnancy, she sporadically began to ask for black olives on salads and pizza. Then she started asking my father to pick up a can of olives on his way home, then two cans, etc.

The night before I was born my Dad awoke to the sound of cans rattling in the kitchen. He didn’t want their mischievous cat to wake my mother who was trying her best to sleep in the living room, so he got up to make way to the kitchen only to see the cat nestled quietly at the foot of the bed. Cans were still rattling down the hall. Dad turned on the kitchen light to see my mother sitting at their molded plastic kitchen table with matching egg-shaped veneer red and white chairs. Two cans of black olives, open and empty to her left, a third can in one hand, with the other shoving olives in her mouth. My father stared in bewilderment as my mother stated through hundreds of olive grounds, I can’t stop. Olive juice dripped everywhere and drizzled the white counter as she refilled another handful and chomped some more, while he stood there, completely silent. Dad stated many times that scenario of my mother would have scared the hell out of Rosemary and her baby.

My mother was definitely more than ready to go into labor to get that boxing-olive-glutton infant the hell out of her. Later