Sunday Roast: You want me to smash this fucking barbecue in your face?

About the author

Mark Visbeek is a designer, musician, superstar, and loves illeism. Always looking to create beautiful things, I'm often distracted by the amazing stuff happening around me. My most important weapons are limitless amounts of love and a faux-French accent.

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It’s Sunday and you’re hungover, angry at the world, at bartenders and most of all: yourself. No worries, we feel the same. That’s why we’ve invented Sunday Roast. A bi-weekly conversational ‘column’. A written one. Online. Every other Sunday, Mark and Sabrina vent about the horrible burdens and ungodly mishaps of their 21st century life. Usually reserved only for bars, we bring our problems right into your home. Sharing is sexy, and a problem shared is a problem halved.. You are cordially invited to our pity party.

Previous Sunday Roast here.

Dear Sabrina,

I got quite good at dodging biking tourists over the years, but there is something new going on the last couple of days. I’m actually getting into fights with perfectly experienced cyclists and other locals instead of tourists or old ladies, and I will explain why I think the weather is to blame for this.

It’s hot, the sun is shining non-stop and people are pissed off. It doesn’t seem logical, since sunshine mostly cheers us up and instantly renders us hanging around in parks and on the streets like a bunch of sloths on marijuana. But this time it’s different. The weather has been so shitty the last months that we feel we really deserve some sun right now, and we are not going to let anyone fuck with it anymore.

I’m writing this angry column while looking out the window knowing it’s weekend and 27 degrees outside, and there are beautiful girls in skanky clothes taking over the streets.

We are so focused on soaking up every little bit of this sunshine that we deserve like nothing else, that we get aggressively agitated when someone distracts us from this task. ‘Why the fuck are you looking at me!? Can’t you see I’m busy enjoying the sun?? Can’t you see I don’t want to be distracted by your benign ogling?? You want me to smash this fucking barbecue in your face? Thought so! Then walk on you motherfucking prick. Who the fuck do you think you are? Distracting me from enjoying my sun.. MY SUN. Idiots.’

But I don’t blame them. I feel the same way. I’m writing this angry column while looking out the window knowing it’s weekend and 27 degrees outside, and there are beautiful girls in skanky clothes taking over the streets. And all my friends are at a festival. And they’re having cold beers right now. And..

Shit, gotta go, cheers.

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