I love cheese.

No, I don’t just mean I love cheese. I love cheese.

It’s almost an obsession with me. I think anything tastes better when you add cheese.

Now I know some of you are skeptics. You don’t think cheese is the answer to all of your dining woes. How can something that originated from an animal’s udder be the perfect food?

Oh, ye of little faith! Don’t doubt me on this one.

Cheese is the perfect food.

The best part is, there is no such thing as bad cheese!

And there are so many to choose from.

I mean, there’s cheddar, monterey jack, colby, swiss, brie, ricotta, feta, parmesan, cream cheese and even blue cheese dressing.

There is no reason every meal can’t be a cheesy delight.

The first thing I ask for at a restaurant is to add cheese to whatever I order. Spaghetti? Throw on the parmesan! A salad? Sprinkle a little colby across the top! French fries? Is there any other way to eat them than dipped in feta? (I didn’t think so!) Sushi? Roll that baby up in some monterey jack and bring it home to mama! Nothing says "good raw fish" quite like a slab of cheese.

Rebecka, my friend and partner in crime, said it best when she said, "The only way to eat meat is with a big slice of cheese between a bun."

Poetry. Pure poetry.

See, Phil didn’t understand the beauty of a patty melt plate. There’s cheese in it, Phil! Melted cheese!

If you still don’t believe cheese is all it’s cracked up to be, then just look at the way it has even permeated our vocabulary.

Some of you may call me cheesy.

Of course, only the nice ones call me that. The rest of you call me something that can’t be printed and would probably make a sailor blush.

It’s not an insult to be called cheesy.

I mean, it is literally the truth.

I eat cheese at least four times a day, so I would have to say I am full of cheese. Thus, I am cheesy.

But even the other meaning of the word is not insulting to me.

I love cheesy people. Those of you who have romantic ideas, still dance to ’80s music and think everything is precious – you are my people. You are cheesy. And I love you for it.

You know you have all shouted "cheese" when you’ve had your picture made. I bet you don’t know why, though.

Because cheese (even the thought of it) is enough to make you smile.

I challenge you to think of cheese – any kind of cheese – and not smile. Can’t do it, can you?

Of course not! Cheese is a happy thing!

Then we get to the expression that I admittedly don’t understand.

Cut the cheese.

Not as in, "Boy, I sure am hungry, could someone cut the cheese so we can eat?"

No, I mean it as in, "She cut the cheese." "He cut the cheese." "They cut the cheese."

And you all know what this implies. My question is: why?

Play along with me for a second. Go to your kitchen and cut the cheese. You know what I mean! (Sometimes your mind is way too dirty!)

Take the colby out of the refrigerator and cut it. Now, two questions: Did you hear anything? Do you smell anything?

My guess is no, unless you cut the cheese.

So my third question is: Why do we call it cutting the cheese?

I find this remark very unsettling because it puts a blemish on the world’s most perfect food. If anyone knows the origin of this, call and clue me in, because I sure would like to know.

However, please don’t call and say, "I’ll tell you all about cutting the cheese, Alice!" Then follow it with a disgusting noise.

My daddy and brother wore that joke out a long time ago. Thanks for thinking of it, though.

So remember: Cheesy people are fabulous. Anytime you want to smile, say, "Cheese!"

And – please – make sure when cutting the cheese it only occurs in your kitchen and you’re using a knife.

– Alice Coggin is a staff writer for The Red and Black. Her column appears each Friday.