I’m not sure where Cheeburger Cheeburger has been my whole life.

Not in Iowa, that’s for sure.

Or Indiana.

Or pretty much any state I’ve ever lived in.

And I’m a lesser woman for it.Where have the malts been? Where were the shakes?

Do you see these options?

Rice Crispy Treat. Butterfingers. Frozen Hot Chocolate. Peanut Butter and Jelly.

How have I made it through life this far?

How?!

It’s madness. Complete madness!And by madness, I mean, it’s completely adorable.

Admittedly, I might have a small bias for 1950s era stuff.

I mean, let’s be honest: I have this exact same kitchen table in my apartment but in yellow.

Something I don’t have in my kitchen? A wall of hamburger shame.

You laugh. That hamburger is totally to scale.

The best part is that Cheeburger Cheeburger’s beef has no additives, no antibiotics, and no added hormones.

Pff.

Like it matters.

With all the grease on the onion rings, pounds of Angus beef on each bun, and gallons of malty goodness, this place is one gigantic artery clog away from a heart attack.

One really delicious Butterfinger, mint chocolate chip, and cherry shake away from a heart attack.

And then, just when you thought this place couldn’t get any greasier better, your hamburger shows up in a car!

If you’re four.

If you’re a lame adult, your hamburger comes in a basket.

Without wheels.

And flames on the side.

Sniffle.

From hamburger-toting hot wheels, to creamy shakes and malts, to over 30 different kinds of burger toppings, to onion rings, to fries, to complete and utter gut rot . . . Cheeburger Cheeburger has my vote.

My very, very full vote.

And now, if anyone needs me, I’ll be digesting in the corner.