I know one of my roommates made you last night - no doubt you were then a glorious, melted, gooey mass of deliciousness. Given the globular shape you now have, sitting forgotten in the sink, I can tell you were good and runny. To take such a shape you must have been very hot, and then doused with something cold. And now, I see deeper orange streaks within your yellow goodness, little stripes of the oil that rose to your surface when you were melted.
O lump of congealed cheese, you make me think the things I ought not! You've been sitting unwanted over night. But seeing you, I can't help but think of fresh, hot, melted cheese - and how very much I do love the cheese. Cheeeeeeese. Divine. I want to eat you, lump of congealed cheese! I won't, because that would be disgusting. But I'm thinking about cheese, oh yes I am.