I Have Recycled! Hear Me Roar

As a result of our apartment's inaugural party a few weeks ago, The Roommate and I have accumulated a trash can full of empty bottles. I charmingly insisted that all guests deposit their bottles in a special bin and not with the normal waste, in my (continuing) deluded plans to figure a way to recycle in Cairo.

And today I have managed to do so, with some benefit to myself as well! Everything is delivered in Egypt, and apparently things are picked up too. How I managed:

1. I called to order wine for a party tonight.
2. I asked the phone operator at Drinkies (all alcohol, all delivered at all times) whether they could pick up my empty bottles when delivering the new purchase.
3. They picked up my empty bottles when delivering the new purchase.

By they, really, I mean the lone delivery man who somehow managed to carry 40 or so empty Stella bottles across the city, most likely on a motor bike.

And the best part? I was given a 45 pound rebate for recycling.

World, I hug you.

I do not hug my lungs, however. They have decided to become afflicted with bronchitis and convinced their friends, my sinuses, to contract sinusitis in solidarity. As a result, I am hacking unfortunate amounts of phlegm at inappropriate times, and occasionally coughing so hard that I choke and my eyes water. I'm lots of fun to be around. Now, don't worry, I won't post pictures of phlegm or trash cans overflowing with tissues (which, unfortunately, cannot be recycled, except maybe in Berkeley), but instead will embark on my new blog project. Blogject?

I realized that I have been posting a bunch of photos with the themes:
1. Here are my friends and I.
2. My friends and I do silly things for no apparent reason.
And I have neglected the all important (and all-too-obvious) genres:
1. Hey, look, I'm in Cairo!
2. Cairo does silly things for no apparent reason.

That's not to say that I will stop posting pictures of myself and friends looking less-than-brilliant, just that I will also offer other sights. But since I've been moping around the vicinity of my bed for over a week, I only have three pictures so far to offer (and two are of the same thing).

First, the lovely banyan tree on AUC's campus. This tree is in the portion of campus we call the "Fountain Area" because it has in it, among other things, a fountain. The tree is very nifty but a bit of a pain to sit under because it periodically drops various leaves and other sundry tree parts on the unsuspecting students, and some of those tree parts are inexplicably sticky.






The following picture is a bit of graffiti I spotted on the wall of the classroom in which The Roommate and I teach English once a week. Good to know that the emotional impact of Pink Floyd has translated across the continents.


And no, I do not leave them kids alone. I make them speak English, occasionally in verse. I even make them read poems like this:

WHY ENGLISH IS SO HARD TO LEARN

We must polish the Polish furniture.
He could lead if he would get the lead out.
The farm was used to produce produce.
The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
The soldier decided to desert in the desert.
This was a good time to present the present.
A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
I did not object to the object.
The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
The bandage was wound around the wound.
There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
They were too close to the door to close it.
The buck does funny things when the does are present.
They sent a sewer down to stitch the tear in the sewer line.
To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
After a number of injections my jaw got number.
Upon seeing the tear in my clothes I shed a tear.
I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?
I read it once and will read it again
I learned much from this learned treatise.
I was content to note the content of the message.
The Blessed Virgin blessed her. Blessed her richly.
It's a bit wicked to over-trim a short wicked candle.
If he will absent himself we mark him absent.
I incline toward bypassing the incline.

Thanks for that poem, internet, I enjoyed it, even if the students didn't. The Roommate's an my upcoming lesson, however, will be more useful (especially considering who's teaching it): we want to teach sarcasm to our students. Sarcasm is very difficult for English learners to understand, and as a result some of my most brilliant comments fall on uncomprehending ears.

What is the world without sarcasm? What would this post be without sarcasm?

Probably about an eighth as long.