UPDATE: Toga Party Date Watch

Still no toga for me, although I found quite a few possibilities on the Web. I had the idea to take advantage of the fact that I live in costume capital of the world and actually go out and find one that looks good. That was before this afternoon.
Standing around in a group with MC and his crew plus Skinny Gal, we were talking work until MC brought up the party, again mentioning how horrid he looks in a toga. Okay, I was pretty surprised he brought this up in front of his crew, but I decided to play it like I've been playing it with Chris this week - bawdy.

The day before, I actually offered to sleep with Chris if he went to the party with me. He smirked and said something about forgetting about the party and just having sex. I smiled and said that something had to be in it for me. In spite of my very generous offer, he strongly (as opposed to politely) declined.

So, back to today - MC says he's not exactly saying no - but he might have a conflict, someones birthday (and from the undercurrent and the mention of a "she", I figure she's gotta be someone he's schtupping, but who am I to judge?). I teased him that this conflict never came up before - before the mention of togas... What does a gal have to do to get a man to wear a friggin' toga???? Dinner, meat, drinks, blow jobs... Yeah, I went there - right in front of everybody. Since I swear like a sailor, I decided no reason to change me because I may have a thing for MC. Nope, if I'm gonna channel Atia, I'm not going to back down.



Although, as the conversation went on and on and on, I began to feel a heavy weight. I was, basically, begging. Part of me just couldn't understand what the big deal was about wearing a toga. The other part of me hated the idea of showing up to yet another event alone.

The upshot was something about MC having skinny legs found out when he wore a gladiator outfit a couple of years back. Ah huh, so what was the big deal about wearing a toga; one I might add that I was going to make sure was long? Halloween he says. This is not Halloween. No, this is waaay more important than Halloween. This is the guy that I loved and pined over for years and I'm going to be in his house where his beautiful wife and charming children live! This is about my whole self portrait! This is about teenage Ndel finally being put to rest. Yeah, this is waaay more important than Halloween could ever be!

In a nutshell, I still don't have a definitive no from MC, but I'm not hopeful. Tracy says I should focus on the fact that he said yes. It's the whole toga thing that's mucking it up. Don't remind me. I know it's the toga. Chris would have said yes but for the toga. Now, same holds true for MC.

On the ride home, I reached the end of my rope when I remembered that not only were married people that I went to school with 20 years ago going to be there, but also contemporary colleagues too! I had completely forgotten that since he Brady (the Crush) now works in my industry, people from his company, many whom I've known for years, will mostly likely be there as well. And then it hit me.

Can you say "LOSER"?

That would mean not going at all.

One of MC's crew members asked me where the party is going to be held. I realized that I didn't really know. So, I when I got home, I Google mapped the house (and yes, I love Google). It's pretty far for MC - he lives in Santa Clarita and the party is going to be in Los Alamitos. For you folks who aren't in Southern California, that's like 60 miles plus; an arduous ride even for us freeway loving Angelenos. I decided that I would tell him that the distance is too great for a late night drive home; he's off the toga hook completely.

So in short DRs, I, most likely, will not attend the party by myself. This is hard for me - as most people obsess over their high school reunions, this party is such for me. I'm torn. I'm disappointed. I hate the idea that a theme stands between me and a little ego revenge. I can't believe Brady's excluding me! It's the 9th grade all over again.

But, on the bright side, I did ask three men out this week and two said yes. That's something, isn't it?

Spinsterhood calls.

We Are the Ones We've Been Waiting For


Look Ma! I Asked Men Out!

Ah, how the times bring us opportunities! Remember my high school crush that I went to lunch with from a few months back? Well, he's turning 40 next month and I've been invited to the party. No problem, right? Actually, I am pretty excited to attend. He told me it was a theme party. I figured it would be an 80s theme, so I started thinking about where I could stock up on the argyle and Lacoste.

And then I got the invitation.

It's a toga party.

yea...yippee...woo hoo...um...

Okay, I know I don't need to tell you that once I was holding that invite in my hand, it dawned on me that (1) I just could not go by myself and (2) I (and this mystery date) would have to wear a toga.


Since I've banished sex from my life in the pursuit of pure romance, I've found that I have very few possibilities for a decent escort. And let me say right now, that I am not following my own life advice. See, I think that women and men should always have someone they can call on who can serve as an escort par excellence. Doesn't matter if you're taken, single or stupid, you always need someone suitable to take to certain events; whether those events be work related or former crush hosted. You need someone who won't scare small children, can keep a fairly decent conversation going with strangers and won't hang on to your leg instead of doing what good escorts do -- fetch your drinks, charm everyone at the table, tantalize the opposite sex while earning the envy of their own.

As of today, I have no such stalwart to call upon.

So, I started thinking about it - who was I gonna ask to escort me to this soiree? First, I went to my work buddy Chris. Chris can make anybody laugh, he's tall, smart and reliably charming.

He turned me down cold. Didn't even think about it. He said his body is not ready for a toga and nobody's ready to see his body in one. Maneli (skinny gal - one of my assistants, you remember) and I shot each other a look; we knew who we thought would look just fine in a toga.

So, then I went to youngster Kyle. Now, the fact that he has a girlfriend gave me a little pause; but hey, this wasn't a romantic endeavor - it was a psyche saving mission! Kyle, bless his heart, at first said yes, he'd be happy to help me out. He added that his body wasn't ready either, but he was game. That's my Kyle - young, gullible and ready to throw down. I breathed a sigh of relief.

And then he checked his Blackberry.

Sorry, he had something involving a salsa class, lots of people and weeks in the making on the night in question. See, I told you he was ready to throw down.

Back to square one.

My last option -- the one I would like most and least, was left staring me in the face. I had to ask Mr. Casablanca. Of course, first I asked all of my girlfriends if they thought I should. And pox on them - they all said, "hell yeah!"

As if on cue, I caught another cold. It's not like I wanted to ask him on the phone (with a scratchy voice and cough). I wanted, actually, had to ask him in person. And, I had to look good. That doesn't happen when you're sick, know what I mean? So, I stayed home and nursed myself back to, ah, okayness. Today, as time was getting short and I had a meeting, I decided to go in - without contact lenses, heels, skirt or copious amounts of make up. In short, I looked very weekendy - a no date weekend, I might add. I had resigned myself to being plain and that, perhaps, would indicate that this "date" wasn't really a date, but more like a humanitarian mission.

Made me feel better when one of my tenants said I looked great, even if I was sick. Okay, so I didn't look as bad as I felt. Check. I was desperate to not go to this thing alone. Check. I was prepared for him to turn me down flat. Check. He was not my first choice for this mission. Check. No reason to hesitate now.

I started out, "I wouldn't normally ask this..." I explained it was a party that my high school crush was giving, with his ridiculously beautiful wife. He said yes without hesitation.

Then I informed him it was a theme party. A toga party. And he smiled, "I'll have to think about that one -- let me think about it."


This toga thing was undoing me. I offered to bribe him with dinner at my favorite Brazilian joint, Fogo de Chao - a meat lover's veritable heaven. Heck, I was ready to throw money at the man.

"Not you too! You'd be the third guy to turn me down! At least give me points for how hard it was for me to do this! Did I mention his wife is ridiculously beautiful?"

"Why would this be hard? You talk to me almost everyday"

You think he was mocking me?

"Cause this isn't something I'd normally do. Come on - remember your high school crush? And did I mention he has a stunningly beautiful wife? I can't go to this thing alone."

"I don't look so good in togas"

You mean he's tried on one before? And, no, he would look amazing in one.

"Oh come on, what was that about needing a tailor? I'll take care of the whole toga thing. Look," I showed him the email I'd sent to Chris earlier this morning with several examples of non-flesh baring togas as well as a historically accurate detail of who actually wore togas and how to wrap them. I was trying to convince myself as much as I was trying to convince him. Togas aren't so bad.

"Where'd you get all that from?"

"I Googled toga"

Have I mentioned lately that I love Google?

He still has to think about it.

So, there you have it DRs. This week, I asked three, count 'em, three men out. I got one no, one yes (and then a retraction) and one maybe. Think of it this way. If he says yes (BF says he will), I'll have the perfect excuse for a picture of both of us that I can post right here without worry. And I promise I will. In the meantime, I'm going forward with my toga search (women did not wear togas, but I guess I've got some creative, fashion license here, I'm sure they're not expecting women to come dressed as Vestal Virgins). Excuse me while I go Google "roman womens' hairstyles, wigs".

There's no way I'm looking bad that night. And I am going. No matter what. I think I may take a page out Atia's play book - but then again, she just would have offered to fuck him until he couldn't walk straight and dared him to say no.

Not a bad plan of attack, if I say so myself.


Fione Man of the Month

Dear Reader,

You might have noticed that I've been more than a bit tardy in naming a Fione Man of the Month for a while now. It's not that I wasn't thinking about it (him). Nope, quite the contrary, I've been wondering just who I would stumble across next. The problem is that I didn't want to name one of the usual suspects (Clooney, Affleck, Kravitz, etc). I wanted to find someone new and refreshing.

But, haven't found anyone just yet that fits that bill.

Then, I thought, I'd really like to name Mr. Casablanca (MC), now that I have a quite stolen picture of him (pilfered from his MySpace page - it's private ya'll - and I am not a friend). I wanna share my little corner of the world, but, ah, would it be terrible to post without his permission?

Yeah, I thought so too.

Then I had a better idea. A much better one. A fione man is a fione man, and so this month's fione man is --

Your choice. Your man. Your dream. Your desire.

He's any man you want him to be.


No Office for Single Women

You figure it had to happen.

It's been a minute since I've mentioned Mr. Casablanca. Well, this week, he came roaring back into my life, but not my bed. Not by a longshot. The last couple of weeks, I had been working on forgetting the chap. I was listening to best friend Amber's advice. She said that if he was as smart as he sounds, he wouldn't touch a working romance with a ten foot pole. I tended to see her point. She said, just wait till his project was over and on his last day in the building, ask him out. If he says yes, the better. If he says no, I'd be no worse off. I saw the wisdom in BF's words, so I was meditating myself into celibacy and dealing with seeing hotness on a regular basis without being able to touch. And then. And then...

I'm working with my two gals - Tall Gal and Skinny Gal at our other building and TG breathlessly announces that she has gossip. Did she say gossip? We love gossip. We adore gossip. We eat gossip for late afternoon snacks! Of course I want to hear gossip. Give it to me!

And then she added, "it's about SG's MySpace page!"

Oh no. I bet somebody has threatened her again on her page. An ex-girlfriend of a plantonic friend has the idea that SG is/was/will screw(ing) him. Total nonsense, but hey, crazy people thrive on nonsense, right? SG had to file a police report after the crazy bitch's brother left a message on the page that he'd kill her. See, this is why I will never have a MySpace page. Ever. I'm convinced that in this day in age, how you get stalked or threatened is via MySpace. SG put her page on private in response and here the gossip and lil' Ndel converge.

I asked SG if it was the crazy bitch... TG interjects, "sorry, girlie, MC likes the skinny one; he wanted to see her page."

Okay, after I quickly picked up my heart that had jumped out of my chest, I looked SG gal in the face and said, "I thought that might be the case. He's a great guy. Like I told you, you should go for it."

SG, to her credit, said, "naw. I can't go out with a guy who's never even talked to me! He didn't even say anything."

Then, I had to regroup. She's right. He doesn't talk to her. He hasn't talked to her - outside of hello and goodbye. What did she mean he didn't say anything? I didn't really know how the whole MySpace thing works, but I knew her page was on private. So, he requested to be her friend, but apparently, without writing an accompanying note. You ask how did he know about her page? Well, Joe, MC's supervisor, had been telling the crew that SG had a "racy" page. Now, she doesn't, but Joe's going through a mid-life crisis and SG is the girl in roses, a la American Beauty. So... Man talk.
I was torn between not hyperventilating and figuring out if TG was full of shit and had overstated the situation. We talked a bit more about how requests are made through MySpace. Once it came out that he said nothing whatsover, not even, "hey, it's MC..." and she didn't recogonize him right away, I felt my breath come a bit easier. TG fluttered around, as she's apt to do. SG and I talked easily. This is because I told her a few weeks ago that if he was actually interested in her, I'd be happy for her. Why would I say that? Mostly because I think he's a good guy. Such a good guy, in fact, that I would be happier to see him with someone I know. Yeah sure I was softening the blow so to speak. And what of it? When you have skinnier, younger competition around you every day.... I don't care how self-assured you are, the idea that he could be attracted to another flava has to cross your mind. Hell, he's a grown-ass man and heck if I know what he'll do. I was just preparing myself for a possibility. I'll be damned if it did, in fact, protect me from my own self doubt.

I mean, I saw him that morning although he didn't know it. He was looking very intently and seemed to be fighting the urge to come over. I stayed right where I was. I was trying to wean myself from the man. I had to stand my ground. In a weird way, I was so glad that I did. Somehow my holding back gave me comfort. The rest of the afternoon, I silently prepared myself to eventually see SG & MC together - maybe. I began to be okay with it. Not good with it, mind you, just okay.

And then my cell phone rang. Right back on schedule for our after hours catch up calls that had been AWOL for over a week. He asked me if I was talking to Bruce Willis earlier. I told him he had a nice MySpace page. He laughed. He said Joe said it was racy. He was expecting naked pictures or something, but it was just a regular MySpace page (with threats, no doubt). We laughed. I couldn't resist sticking my head out of my office, pointing to my cellphone surgically attached to my ear. It was him, I mouthed. When I hung up, I strolled outside, leaned on SG's cubicle and beamed.

"Who was that?" TG asked.

"You call him?"


I'd call it a draw.


Spreading the Hope

If you haven't seen this beautiful video, check it out:

Yes we can! And we Will!