The Coquette In Disguise

It fascinates me how some women in this country will vehemently preach proper behavior and openly judge your (in their opinion) 'liberated' lifestyle, as though they are the quintessential prim princesses of civility and propriety. But when it comes to a socially valid agenda such as Husband Hunting, their cutt-throat nature and cunning tendencies suddenly emerge into full blossom to serve their ruthless quest of capturing their designated Target. The sudden transformation from 'pious and reserved ' into raging coquette is most amusing, as it demonstrates their amazing talent of being overfriendly and flirtatious on a total whim.

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While at work, I couldn't help notice the curious eyes of the Coquette in Disguise intensely following my attractive male visitor as he stepped into my office. A few minutes after he settled into his chair, she summoned her clique of 4 other girls (three of whom are married) to walk back and forth across my office, in order to gain a better view of this mysterious man, and perhaps discern the nature of our relationship.

I'll have to admit my visitor has often elicited my own personal admiration. He is handsome, tall, half European, with pink flushed cheeks and... he wears nicely cut suits. But after meeting his gorgeous Swedish girlfriend and faintly realizing that there is no prospect, I have become more level-headed and pragmatic regarding the whole (one-sided) attraction -and he also lives in another country...
But the Coquette, clueless to the aforementioned details, enthusiastically knocked on my office door to commence her attack:
Coquette: Hi CD, we just ordered some food, would you like anything?
CD: No thanks.
Coquette: (Knowing very well that I never eat at work) Are you sure?
CD: Yes, but thank you.

Coquette takes a few steps forward into the office, to gain a better view of my handsome visitor and perhaps to cast him a taste of her own physical appearance.
Coquette: (Facing the visitor) What about you, would you like anything. (her voice slightly softned and unusually buttered up)
Visitor:(face instantly turning red) Oh no thank you.
Coquette: (Sticking out her pelvis into his face and arching her back to emphasize her bosom's perkiness) Are you suuuuuuuure? (She not so subtlely elongated the 'sure' with an extra softened, meliflous tune)
Visitor: yes, I'll be leaving in a few minutes anyway.
Coquette: Sshda3waaaa! Taw il nass. at least have a little piece of pizza before you leave.
Visitor: ummmm....uh, well..
Coquette: I ordered some from X, they're really delicious!
Visitor: Oh! X opened in Kuwait now?
Coquette: Yes they did. Aren't they good?
Visitor: Yeah they're great. I love their pizzas. I haven't had any in a long time.
Coquette: Khala9 3ayal you'll have to have some...they'll be here any minute.

This mini conversation took place in my office without neither of them turning to look at me for a single second. It was as though I was not even in the room. But the real mind-boggling shocker was seeing Coquette, who a few days ago had critisized my short skirt in the ladies room, being overfriendly with this random male stranger. And she continued to bring it on:

Coquette: 3afwan, ma ta3arafna 3al ism il kareem?
Visitor: (immediately getting up from his chair and sticking out his hand) I am flan il flany, pleased to meet you.
Coquette: wil ni3im! So you are related to CD!?
Visitor: yes, very distantly.
Coquette: (Huge smile blossoming on her face at the word "distantly") fur9a sa3eeda wallah (she pulls a chair by the far end of the wall and invites herself to sit down) How come manshooofik wala nisma3 3anik? CD khashitik 3annah?? (she looks at me for the first time)
Visitor: heheh..la wallah, I just don't live in Kuwait. I live in X country.
Coquette: Waw. Wanasa. I love X Country, I try to go there as often as I can, its my favourite city.
Visitor: (who is beginning to seem enchanted by her!) Yes, its wonderful and my favourite city too!
Coquette: So what do you do there?
Visitor: I work as X for Y company.

Of course all the while my jaw was nearly hitting the floor with the shock at this girl's gutsiness. She is working it, and working it so good that he too, also seemed to forget I was present in the room. But nevermind that he was obviously smitten by the Coquette in Disguise, its her amazing unexpected talent that I am amazed and astounded by; within five minutes of the conversation this girl was able to find out
1- His name
2-His relationship to me
3-Where he lives
4-What he does for a living

And she also managed to invite him for a meal.

They continued to talk while munching on their pizzas and at the end of their conversation she sweetly gazed at him and said:
"Flaaaaaaan, amana! If you ever need anything from Kuwait, tara I come to your city all the time. Tell CD wa7na 7athreen" She turns to me and for a second I get a direct glimpse of that sweet gaze to which she had honored my visitor, and I too, instantly melt. Seriously, how can this resident ice queen with sarcastic tendencies just flip the switch and turn into an absolute warm sweetheart? I am intrigued.

She leaves the office like a seductive mermaid, with her long colorful skirt trailing behind her step, and my visitor/cousin turns to me, clearly mesmerized:
"What a sweet gal! She's so friendly!"

A Vampire's curiosity

The other day at work, I was chugging down obscene amounts of coffee and fatuously typing up a presentation with the Ipod cranked up to indecipherable levels (a valuable way that keeps me awake while also giving a direct message to office mates that I am NOT to be bothered, and to passersby NOT to come in for a visit). Behold I see a blinking light on my office phone, indicating a personal call, so I pulled out my ear phones and picked up the phone:
"Aloooh! Minoo? CD?" gasped a raspy voice that I immediately recognized to be Vampire's. Just exactly what I wanted to hear...

CD: (unenthusiastically) Halla Khalti Vampire.
Vampire: haaw CD ishloonich? 3ayazt wana adig 3alaich!
CD: khair khalti?
Vampire: Abad wallah. A7awel a7a9il ummich bas madri wainhi.
CD: ok I'll tell her to call you.
Vampire: ma7ad yisheel telefoonkum bil bait, wil mobile malha mughlaq.
CD: ok...
Vampire: il mobile laish mughlaq?
CD: wallah madri
Vampire: 3almeeni, ummich bil kuwait?

No class whatsoever. At least try to conceal your nosiness. I absolutely hate telling people about my family's travelling habits, call it a presumptiously vain fear of the evil 3ain or an unjustified superstition, but bottom line, its not anybody's business.

CD: la2, moo bil kuwait.
Vampire: imsaafraah?
CD: Eee!
Vampire: (her voice firing up) wain ra7at!
CD: X country
Vampire: Eee 3eshtaaaaaaw! wiya mino ba3ad?
CD: wiya ubooy.
Vampire: shi6aaary, yejadedooon shahr il 3asal!

I took a deep breath and silently debated whether this old hag deserved my respect. I decided that she didn't, but 3alashan umi I won't be too obnoxious:

CD: heheh Khalti, law ma3arfich, chan gilt 3anich mi7tarah!
Vampire: la bil 3aks. 3alaihum bil 3afya. Khal yistansown.
CD: I'll tell her to call you inshallah (wanting to end the conversation).
Vampire: Enzain, intay imkhaleeenich bil bait ibroo7ich?

I can almost see her flared nostrils fuming away, her wrinkled fingers gripping onto the phone, her intense eyes wide open, anxiously waiting for my answer; as though whatever it is I'm about to utter will feed her need, her oxygen, her purpose in life: to discover other people's social imperfections and highlight them in public gatherings -an excellent opportunity to paint her image as the quintessential queen of propriety and sana3, while elevating her own personal ego in the process.
I totally see it: her sitting at her usual spot, entertaining guests with catered finger foods and uniformed philipanas, her face soaked in Chanel foundation after drowning it the night before in Obaji, the efforts of which are still not effective in concealing the streaming wrinkles on her saggy cheekbones and crinkled forehead. The lips, emphasized in rich red lipstick, spewing tales on how 'some' families are too 'liberated', or how some daughters are too 'independent'. And if someone happens to comment that so and so's daughter had just recently lost weight and is looking brilliant, Vampire will immediately step up to the plate to add that the girl has an eating disorder, and is currently seeking psychiatric help in London.
But one thing you can always count on Vampire is her abilty to entertain. Her cackling voice and Kuwaiti style wit brings life and color to any social gathering, and for that reason alone the women of kuwaiti society are addicted to her company. Her popularity amonsgt them is disturbing testament to soceity's superficial appreciation for exaggerated entertainment on the back of morality.
So I was not about to feed this old hag's need to find what she thinks is an atrocious shortcoming of my family's, and one that she would use to elevate her own fake sense of propriety, so I'm damn well gonna lie:
CD: La ya khalti, ana moo ibroo7y bil bait. Ana ga3da ib bait Grandmother.
Vampire: laa? EE zain itsaween. Moo 7ilwa tig3ideen ibnaya ibroo7ich bil bait.
CD: 9ajja. A9lan yitheeq khulgy.
Vampire: Eee wallah, il wa7id ma yigdar yig3ad ibroo7ah. El mohim, intay diggay 3ala umich, ow gooleelaha itkalimny
CD: laish, fee shay tharoory?
Vampire: la, bas ba3arif akhbarha.

LIKE HELL I WILL.
CD: Inshallah.

socio-political rant

taken from Daily Star, April 7, 2006
"HAMAS EXPECTS KUWAIT'S PROMPT FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE

The Hamas led government expected to receive 80 million US dollars from Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emerates to help pay March salaries"

Oh really? a7na shakoo! Why should we pay for their march salaries? In fact, why are we still sending money to these countries! Its time we let our 'arab brethren' (what a myth!) to learn to be economically independent from our neverending and unconditional generosity.
Thank god that these people are involved in terrorist activities and thank God the US is presently on high terror alert - it is the perfect excuse Kuwait can use not to fund their foolishness.
I say its time we stop extending our extremely generous lending hand to ungrateful countries and start using our resources for Kuwait's own social programs, which seriously and painfully suck! Yes we do have free medical care, but would you ever dare get your diagnosis/operation at a government hospital? After numerous horrifying experiences and misdiagnoses, I have resorted to private health care and I only wish the Ministry of Health would stop sending people for summer vacations (aka 'check ups) in Europe and start hiring competent staff that don't request a 'was6a' for an MRI check up.
Now I realize that in the past it was a strategic decision for Kuwait to provide extravagant handouts to these countries so that they support our government and shut their traps on how rich we are. But now we no longer desperately need their political support since any threat they might impose ceases to exist what with dear ol' Uncle Sam to protect us (or oil prices to be exact).
This rant aside, I was quite disappointed with Mohammed Al-Khaledi's preposterous statement on government employees on a seperate article:
"More than 90 percent of the national workforce of 300,000 is employed in government jobs with higher pay and shorter working hours than in the private sector"

Excuse me? Where did you get 'higher' pay from? Enlighten me please.
And shorter working hours! Now that seems to be the popular rumour. When I signed my contract to work it stated that working hours are from 7:00 am- 3:00 pm. My friends in the private sector work from 8:00 am-4:00 pm. Its the exact same amount of hours. In the USA the typical schedule is from 9:00 am -5:00 pm, with a one hour lunch break! There is no shorter working hours!!!

There is however, something called 'as7ab siphone' which entails arriving 2 hours late, and leaving 2 hours early which is entirely dependent on the boss's carelessness, and apathy. Though such bosses might be prevalent in the government sector, it by no means pronounces or officially means that government jobs provide shorter working hours. It only means that you can get away with being mediocre.