Jacki Trew: Legitimate Author

In a bid to project myself as a legitimate author, I've decided to branch out from writing about stuff like sex and fart jokes and my own ridiculous existence.  If I want other people to start taking me seriously, I've got to start taking MYSELF seriously.  Right?  So here goes that idea:

Reading on the toilet...is awesome.

(baby steps, okay?)

Listen though - because reading on the toilet is pretty amazing.  They wouldn't have invented those bathroom-sized magazine racks if it wasn't.  I don't actually HAVE a bathroom-sized magazine rack at my house (a girl can only dream), but it doesn't matter - I always manage to find something I can take a gander at while I'm...you know...

Taking out the garbage.

Dropping the kids off at school.

Making a deposit with no return.

...

I like having something to read to distract me from the fact that I'm taking a dump is basically what I'm trying to say.  Hello, I'm a girl.  Girls don't want to think about something as disgusting as poo, even when it's coming out of us.  That's one of the first things they teach you at an all-chick high school like the one I went to - right before childbirth and just after the fastest way to unwrap a tampon.

Anyway. 
Here's an example of the last bit of light reading I did:

My photography skills aren't great, so let me translate that:

Proven to work at 58 degrees Celsius, the hottest temperature recorded on earth.

Okay.  Just to clarify, this was written on the back of a can of deodorant.  Here are my questions:

• Is 58 degrees Celcius really the hottest temperature recorded on earth?
• Who recorded it?
• Do you really think they gave a shit about whether or not their deodorant was working?

Maybe this is just me, but if I was standing in the middle of a 58-degree heatwave, I'd be less concerned with the state of my armpits and more focused on trying to keep my head from exploding.  Apparently the manufacturers of Rexona Sport disagree.  Still, I wanted to find out if this figure of 58 degrees was completely accurate; luckily, thanks to the invention of 3G internet and the iPhone, idiots like myself can now feel free to Google whatever they want, whenever they want. 
For example: 
Boyfriend recently announced that he has some special post-Valentine's Day surprise planned for me.  And since he won't give me any clues as to what it is, I spent half of Saturday night trying to figure it out by searching Wikipedia for 'ways a guy might surprise you the week after Valentine's Day'.  For the record, Wikipedia would make a TERRIBLE boyfriend.   To a girl the word 'surprise' means something special, fun, romantic or exciting - not just an activity we didn't see coming.  Anal sex?  Doesn't count.