Why I Even Started This Mess
Okay, so “oscar bologna”. Sounds weird, right? Like maybe someone mixed up Oscar Mayer and bologna? Honestly, I saw it scribbled on a napkin in this coffee shop I like, jammed between a half-eaten croissant. “oscar bologna” stared at me. What was that? Some secret society? A fancy food thing I hadn’t heard of? It bugged me. Like, really bugged me for days. Couldn’t find much searching either. Just made me more curious. Stupid, maybe. But I decided I had to figure out what someone meant by writing that, or what it could be. Experiment time.
The Deep Dive (Mostly Stumbling)
First thought: food. Had to be. “Bologna” screamed deli meat. Oscar Mayer definitely makes bologna. Easy. I went straight to the grocery store.
- Grabbed a bunch: Cheapest stuff, fancy organic stuff, thick-cut, even that weird garlic one. My fridge looked ridiculous.
- Started eating: Plain, fried in a pan, in a sandwich with mustard… you name it. Lots of sandwiches.
- Started mixing: Seriously, what makes it “oscar”? Maybe presentation? Tried arranging slices like a flower, cutting it into tiny stars (failed), even tried microwaving it hoping for some transformative shape (just made a greasy puddle). Nothing felt special.
Frustration kicked in big time. Felt like I was missing something obvious. Maybe it wasn’t literal bologna? Maybe it was code? Started looking into Oscars – the awards show. Tried to connect it to bologna. Did someone win an Oscar for a movie about bologna? My brain started hurting. Went down movie rabbit holes until 3 AM one Tuesday. Found nada.
The Accidental Moment (and the Obvious Point)
This morning, feeling defeated, I made yet another bologna sandwich. Plain white bread, cheap yellow mustard, one of those organic slices. Sat at my desk, staring at the damn thing. Took a huge bite.
And it hit me.
Not some grand revelation about secret meanings. Just… the bologna. It was fine. It was just bologna. Kinda salty, kinda mushy. Nothing “oscar” about it.
Then I looked back at the napkin I’d pinned on my corkboard. Right under it, barely visible smudges: “order: danish + latte”. It hit me like a brick. The scribble wasn’t “oscar bologna”. It was “o’s & bologna” cut off! Someone had written “o’s & bologna”, probably meaning like, cereal and meat? Or a nickname for something? The writing was so messy, “o’s &” looked like “oscar”.
What I Actually Learned (Besides Disappointment)
I spent days chasing my tail. Hours cooking bologna. Money wasted on random cold cuts. Brain cells fried over movie trivia. All because I misread a lazy scribble on a coffee-stained napkin.
But here’s the thing that did stick:
- Curiosity is fun, even when it’s dumb. I genuinely enjoyed the hunt for a while, trying stupid things.
- Sometimes the simplest answer is the only answer. Don’t overcomplicate things. Look harder at the napkin.
- Bologna is weirdly versatile. You can fry it into crispy discs! Who knew?
- Letting go is okay. When the answer is “Oh… that’s stupid”, just laugh and move on.
So yeah. “Oscar bologna” doesn’t exist. It was a typo/misread. And the practice? Mainly proved I can fixate on absolutely nothing with immense enthusiasm. Had a few weirdly satisfying sandwiches though. And next time I see a weird scribble? I’ll probably stare at it for ten minutes before eating.
