(Artsie-KittyGirl @ DeviantArt)
You know that crazy b*tch Tracey Hansen?
The short version is: she’s a freelance writer, author, and blogger. But that’s the boring cover version you get when you could care less about the person behind the handle. That’s why I’m here: to give you the dish behind the feature, and believe you me, you want to read on if you’re British, American, human, or somehow all three (hey it happens). So who is Tracey Hansen?
Tracey Hansen’s butt is showing on her Twitter profile (@THansenWrites) -- she says it's an ass-stool. Tracey Hansen can rap by memory the entire song ‘I Am’ by Eminem. Tracey Hansen was meant for Samantha’s role in Sex and the City.
Word on the street is that she’s quite shy when not properly liquored up. I might as well start a petition to never let that happen because she’s a HOOT when she’s her charmingly sarcastic and scandalous self. You know, the one that scared Meryl Steep once and got a restraining order or something; and no, I don’t know the whole story. *sigh*
She says you can choose to be entertained or offended by her blog. Obviously, I’ve chosen the former. Oh and in case you’re wondering why she always ends her posts with WTYM... you can keep wondering because I will never tell. Ha!
England, My Rebound Country
by Tracey Hansen
Warning: This article contains all kinds of naughty subjects.
When I was approached to write a guest post for Violeta I immediately thought of my trip to London a few years back since she is from the UK. Enjoy!
Typically when girls get dumped they get a new haircut or start a new hobby. This is the outward way in which girls rebuild themselves after something as life shattering as a break-up happens. Me? What did this Florida girl do after I found out my boyfriend of 7 years was leading a polygamist life with another girl in another city…in a condo that I owned?
I got my tits done, grabbed two girlfriends, and flew to Europe to partake in three weeks of drunken debauchery, far far away from the ex whom I was positive was now a disease carrying sociopath.
I wanted to drink warm beer, stick my tongue in the mouth of beautiful British hotties, eat fish & chips, and ride the London Eye.
It’s important to have goals.
There are a few differences between the Brits and Americans that fascinated me. For one thing, here in America drugs are very hush hush. Deals are made in darkened alley ways and through secret exchanges. In London I had several people very politely ask me “Would you like some cocaine?” Sometimes even shouting it above the music in a bar or club. I naturally declined, being already high and all.
British boys are fascinated with fake boobs, but not like the way American boys are. British boys want to know if they hurt and if they feel weird and where the surgical point of entry was. American boys just want to know when they can put them in their mouths.
In America we don't use the word 'cunt'. Even seasoned potty mouths don't use the 'c' word. In London they fling it around like they are asking if you want fries with that. As an open minded person who respects rituals and foreign cultures, I have learned to incorporate the 'c' word in every day conversation. For example "You look cute today you cunt." or "You want to go to the movies cunt?"
Circumcision is not a European thing. Keep this in mind at all times. Nobody likes surprises. I cannot stress this enough.
Drunken texting from London to America is not a good idea. Especially since each text cost $3.99. So, the simple texts you send to your ex asking him why he chose that big nosed slut over you (just a general example) have now cost you that new vibrator you inherently now need since you no longer have said boyfriend.
Everyone is hotter with an accent. Please do not let the voice fool you. Also, while swooning at the average looking British boy with the accent, do not forget the lesson two paragraphs up from here. This is vital.
When waking up in a strange bed in a part of London you are not familiar with do not be frightened when the cute British boy goes for coffee and his ugly roommate tries to grope you. You are American, you could break him like a twig.
And finally, when doing the walk of shame back to wherever the flat is that you rented from wherever the flat was that you woke up in, do not be afraid to stop into a coffee shop and order wine. Even if it’s 9am. They will know you are an American girl who has had a hard time when they see the caked on mascara and twisted eyelashes with yesterday’s makeup. They will be nice to you and they will not judge you…to your face. The laughing you hear coming from the back is not about you…I swear.