Yakamatsu is a Japanese word for "You can't make this shit up".
My roommate the mexican flautist is an everlasting source of Yakamatsu moments.
I come home one day and it smells weird, like someone's baking a cake but not really.
Hey gurrrrl, whatcha doin'?
Baking a cake.
Smells funny.... did you turn on the oven? [please don't explode my apartment, please, don't]
Of course! I'm not stupid!
I see the thermostat and it shows a little less than 200.
Why is the temperature so low?
The recipe calls for 175 degrees for 35 minutes... but it's been cooking for an hour.
I know what you're thinking... wait fooooooooor it.
175 degrees... Were those Celsius or Farenheit, babyface?
Who cares, they're the same thing, right?
Mafe's jaw... to-the-floor.
Umm... not really honeybunch. 175C is EASY 350-400F.
Wow... like magic?
[Oh... for the fricking love of...] Not magic sweetiepie, like PHYSICS.
Really? I though Physics were about throwing rocks.
Take a deep breath Mafe. You kill her, you'll pay for it... with half of your rent.
Can't you just double-check your recipe?
How can I do that?
G--- T--- S
GOOGLE --- THAT --- SHIT
Here's the recipe, but it doesn't say... those must be MEXICAN DEGREES.