An Ode To The Finest Thing In Life, a Cheeseburger

September 18 is National Cheeseburger Day. That's right folks, there really is a day for everything, and I know this because yesterday the Internet and my editor told me so. Cats, aliens, penguins, and pancakes — go ahead and cancel those Tinder dates because each honoree deserves at least 24 hours of your undivided attention.

And on this particular day, we virtually gather here to honor our beloved burger. Whether she's grilled, broiled, fried, or topped, she's a work of art, worthy of scrolling superlatives. And sure, you could celebrate such a historic day with a handful of close friends debating the burger's origin while slinging beers and beef patties at your favorite local pub. Or, if you're me, you could hole up in your 200-square foot studio apartment with your cat and your heating pad to write a sonnet dedicated to your favorite cheeseburgers of all time, and then wonder why you're still single. Whatever, poet's license is a thing and I do what I want, so without further ado, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, this bun's for you.

(Clears throat)

Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger, how do I love thee? Let me count the (15) ways.

I love thee simple,

I love thee sloppy,

I love thee spicy,

and I love thee dressed in poppy.

I love thee little,

I love thee extra large,

I love thee humbly packaged,

and I love thee grossly up-charged.

I love thee deep fried,

I love thee doughy,

I love thee roadside,

and I love thee 24 hours, so very greasy and all neon-glow-y.

I love thee con huevo,

I love thee with good drink,

I love thee and thy ramen,

but dear beloved cheeseburger, I just can't love thee masked in all this goddamn squid ink.