1953 WOSAC

Occasionally life's offerings become odd in my brain. And occasionally I encounter little oddities in life. Here are a few examples.
When I come across a strange casserole type dish at a one of the many organizational luncheons I attend, my tendency is to suppose the meat therein is something I call MOMO --- Meat Of Mysterious Origin. I've noticed that if I eat at a lot of those luncheons, MOMO is also responsible for extra inches on my waistline.
Another acronym from my odd brain is my response when asked what type of shampoo or conditioner I use. As hair products are not high up my list of perceived value, I feel no inclination to part with too much money on them. Especially since hair is not something that stays with you forever anyhow. "Hair today, gone tomorrow," as I say. So when asked what time of shampoo I use, I always reply WOSAC. What's On Sale At Costco.
The other day I was working out at my club and had entered the locker room. At that point I had the odd and unfortunate experience of encountering a male whose use of both WOSAC and MOMO was evident. But not only was his waistline expanding and his hairline receding, he had been an early adopter of body art.
Unfortunately, he'd got one of those barbed wire tattoo bands around his bicep. All very lovely and menacing. A great statement of toughness and machismo. When it's firm and the underlying muscle is cut. And when the skin into which the tattoo is tattooed is tight.
Which was not the case for mister older and saggier MOMO WOSAC. His didn't look so much like barbed wire as a circle of flaccid worms in a limp conga line.
OMG.
America, ya gotta love it.