You know what makes me happy? Butter.
It's delicious and cheap, which are literally my only two requirements for food at this point in my life.
I just want you to tell me what's better than slicing open a piping-hot baked potato and dropping some butter in the middle or telling the nice young man at the movie theater to load up that bag because people who eat movie theater popcorn without butter are unholy heathens.
I typically see potatoes, popcorn, and pancakes as being butter's most satisfying companions, but I was recently introduced to a butter mashup of epic proportions. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...butter and stock photos.
Okay, I know it sounds like I'm working with little to no brainpower, but stay with me.
One clever photo editor decided to take those stock photos that we all love to hate and replace people's smartphones with sticks of butter. In a pure stroke of genius, this mastermind basically won life and the internet. Weirdly, they also captured my affection for butter in the process.
Prepare for some Paula Deen-type realness, folks.
He would go to that work meeting in a half hour, but butter.
Why waste your life comparing yourself to people on social media when you could stare into the eyes of someone you love?
Hilarious tweet? No, even butter. (I hate myself.)
Getting that late-night text is way better when you replace the human interaction part with salty fat.
"New butter, who dis?"
I always love making up stories for people in stock photos. This one says, "My wife just left me because I keep butter in my pocket but also I have butter in my pocket, so who's winning here?"
When you think about it, sending tweets out into the void is about as useful as smashing your thumbs into room-temperature butter.
In the original, this visibly angry woman was reading yet another "thoughts and prayers" tweet. In this version, she's just thinking really hard about how #blessed she is to live such an extravagant lifestyle.
I just feel like if we stared at butter as often as we stare at our phones while fighting with racist uncles on Facebook, we'd be so much happier.
That feeling when you're about to call the barber to help you get rid of that atrocity on your head but you realize you're just holding butter with your crooked monster hand.
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways."
Has Facebook ever made you smile like this? Of course not. That's butter's job.
Utterly pointless? Yes. Better than reading all 6,000 of your work emails? Most definitely.