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Tiffany’s True Hollywood Stories

Scientology

I think everyone who lives in LA has a Scientology story. Mine is pretty short. A lot of people think it’s funny, but I didn’t at the time. I still kind of don’t.

I don’t remember how I found Scientology. They offered me a place to stay for free, and this was during the period I was living out of my car. They said they would give me $50 a month to live there, and they would help me become a superstar.

That was cool and all, but I was really only interested in them because they told me they could take the hurt out of memories. I got some hurtful memories, that’s for sure.

They were trying to get me to go do that thing they do, where you talk about your bad memories as you hold these metal handles, and they give you little electrical charges. You talk about what’s making you so mad. I kept talking about my shit, and it was still reading high. They said, “Do it again, tell it again, tell it again.” I must have told it fifteen times, twenty times, the thing was still reading off the charts. They told me to try again the next day.

Then they took me to the dorm. It was nothing but little white girls. I think the youngest one was seventeen and the oldest one was thirty. I was twenty-three or something. It was just me and them.

They took me to where I was going to sleep. It was bunk beds.

Tiffany: “Uh-uh. I can’t live here, I cannot do that. You need to find me another place to sleep.”

Scientologist: “No, Tiffany, this is where you sleep. It’s very safe, and—”

Tiffany: “I don’t fuck with bunk beds. Bad shit happens in bunk beds. I do not do that.”

Scientologist: “Well, this is all we have, after all—”

Tiffany: “HELL NO! I’m gonna be trapped, y’all gonna let motherfuckers trap me. For what? $50 a month? That’s how you’re going to get me to sleep in a bunk? I don’t think so, motherfucker. I AM OUT!”

I’m not a prima donna. Remember when I was in the orphanage—in state custody—we had bunk beds. And that was where the beatings happened.

Those older bitches used to beat my ass in the bunk bed. If somebody is beating you up, and you get in that corner—you can’t get up out of there. If you’re in that bottom bunk and they’re beating your ass, and there’s walls on both sides, you cannot get out. There’s no way out, you’re trapped. You just get beat.

I know it’s not rational, but those bunk beds just triggered it for me. I was going to be trapped in there. These weirdos started talking about Scientology to me.

Scientologist: “If you leave Scientology, you’re breaking your bond, you’re breaking—”

I went straight hood on them. I was screaming up and down the hallway.

Tiffany: “YOU MOTHERFUCKERS CAN’T PUT ME IN A BUNK BED TO GET MY ASS WHIPPED FOR $50 A MONTH!! THIS IS WHY THERE AIN’T NO BLACK PEOPLE IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

Scientologist: “Tiffany, please, we’re going to have to, you’re going to have to go to the infirmary.”

Tiffany: “Y’all said you was going to take the hurt from the memories. I’m still fucking hurt. SO FUCK YOU AND FUCK BUNK BEDS!!”

I know other people had problems leaving Scientology, but they let me the fuck out pretty quick.

Will & Jada

I was shooting the movie Girls Trip in New Orleans, and Jada Pinkett Smith was in it with me. We got to become pretty good friends on the set. One weekend, Will Smith was coming into town, and Jada invited me to dinner with her and Will.

I got all dolled up in my best cheap dress to go to dinner with them at this restaurant called La Petite Grocery. That place really lived up to its name. Despite being very expensive, it had very small portions of food. I ordered the short rib and it’s just, like, one rib. Seriously, there’s just a little morsel. There’s one bite.

Tiffany: “Where’s the rest of the meat?”

Jada: “You can order as many as you want, Tiffany. It’s okay.”

Tiffany: “Is this how y’all rich people stay thin, y’all just eat like, a bite of food and that’s it? $30 for one bite? That’s insane.”

They also had crazy-expensive wine. I ain’t into that. I asked the wine guy:

Tiffany: “Do y’all have Barefoot Moscato?”

They did have it, and they were cool about bringing it to me. Not snobby or anything.

If you don’t know, Barefoot is that wine they sell in the grocery store real cheap. You can laugh at me. God knows Jada and Will were laughing at me.

Jada: “Oh man, Tiffany, it’s you. It’s you, Tiffany, it’s you.”

Tiffany: “What’s so funny? You ever had Barefoot? It’s good!”

Jada: “Yes, I’ve had it. I love hanging out with you, because you remind me of back when I was young, and living in Baltimore, just getting started. You just remind me of the good old days.”

I thought, Damn, your good old days must have sucked.

She asked me what I was doing the next day, because we had the day off from shooting.

Tiffany: “Oh, I got me a Groupon, so I’m going on the swamp tour.”

Jada: “Who you going with?”

Tiffany: “By myself.”

Jada: “You going all by yourself?”

Tiffany: “Yeah, I don’t have no friends out here in Louisiana, I’m going by myself.”

Jada: “Well, maybe Will and I will go with you.”

Tiffany: “Yeah right, y’all not gonna go with me.”

Jada: “No, we’ll probably go with you. We’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll see.”

There was no chance Jada and Will were coming with me on a swamp tour. I just ignored that shit, and we had a great time at dinner.

The swamp tour was at about 2 p.m., so right after breakfast, I got out my weed that I had brought in from LA. Now, don’t get all crazy—I have a prescription for this weed. I got real bad back pain, and my doctor agrees, and I have a prescription, so be cool.

I smoked a little, right? It was like twelve o’clock. I was thinking to myself, Oh man, this swamp tour’s gonna be so cool, I’mma smoke this weed and the alligators gonna be talking to me, the birds gonna be singing, the raccoons gonna be waving at me and stuff, it’s gonna be like I’m in a Disney movie, it’s gonna be great.

And then about one o’clock, Jada called me. I was high as a kite.

Jada: “Hey Tiff, you still going on that swamp tour?”

Tiffany: “Yeah, of course I’m going.”

Jada: “Well, Will and I are gonna go with you.”

I paused for a second in disbelief.

Tiffany: “Wait, you’re for real? Y’all really gonna go with me?”

Jada: “Yes.”

Tiffany: “Okay cool. Don’t even trip, y’all Groupon is on me, I got y’all. Since y’all paid for dinner last night, I’mma take care of you guys.”

Now it was Jada’s turn to pause.

Jada: “What?”

She told me to come to their hotel and we would ride together.

Tiffany: “Don’t worry, I got it. I’ll be over to your hotel in an hour.”

OH SHIT!

So I started eating all this bread and drinking water, doing jumping jacks and freaking out. I gotta sober up and be cool.

An hour later, I pulled up to their hotel in my little $20-a-day rental car that I got. I started to hand my keys to the valet, ’cause I was thinking I’m gonna ride with Will and Jada and their security in the SUV, and it’s gonna be all cool and stuff.

Nope.

Will Smith came running out the hotel like he’s in Bad Boys 7 and he jumped in the back seat of my car.

Will: “Whoa, it’s been years since I’ve been in a regular car.”

Then Jada runs in behind him.

Jada: “Oh my God, these windows aren’t tinted, I don’t feel safe.”

Tiffany: “Really, Jada? You from Baltimore, bitch. Like for real?”

Jada: “Oh my goodness, fine let’s go, right?”

Will: “Yeah, let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”

So I started driving. The whole time, I was thinking I was leaning back in the seat driving all cool. But the next day, Jada told me I was up on the steering wheel. Of course I was up on the steering wheel, because all I could think was, You don’t want to be the chick on TMZ that killed the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Be careful, Tiffany. Drive carefully.

I was trying to play music for them. I was playing the radio, and Chris Brown came on, and it was a new Chris Brown song. And it was so funny, because Will was bobbing his head, and every time I was looking in my rearview mirror, it was like, Will Smith was in my rearview mirror, smiling and bobbing his head.

I was thinking to myself: This is fucking crazy. How could this be my life?

Jada: “Who is this playing on the radio?”

Tiffany: “Oh, that’s Chris Brown, you don’t know who Chris Brown is?”

Jada: “I don’t listen to his music, all I listen to is Shaolin monks.”

I was like, What? Is that what rich people listen to—monks? What the hell is she talking about?

We pulled up to the swamp tour, and it was a lot of people out there waiting. Pretty much all of them white people, too.

Jada: “Tiffany, why are all these people here?”

Tiffany: “They probably all got Groupons.”

Jada: “Tiffany, what is a Groupon?”

Tiffany: “What do you think it is?”

Jada: “I think it means you got your own boat that you could take a group of people on.”

Tiffany: “No, Jada. It’s a discounted coupon that you can do activities with. Why would you think that I had my own boat, Jada?”

Jada: “Will, you gotta go back to the hotel. Call security right now to come and get you to take you back to the hotel, because this gonna be a problem. With all these people and stuff, you need to go home, because it’s gonna be pandemonium. But I’mma stay, ’cause they not gonna recognize me.”

Will: “Oh, no fair. How you gonna invite me on the swamp tour and not let me go on the swamp tour? I want to go on the swamp tour.”

Tiffany: “Yeah Will, tell your wife. Y’all gonna be safe, y’all with me, Tiffany Haddish. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to y’all. I got my backpack, ain’t nobody finna mess with us, we’re gonna see what’s on this swamp.”

Jada: “You got a backpack?”

See, I was trying to make it seem like I had a weapon in my backpack, like I had it cracking. I was patting on the backpack like, “We good, y’all. Like, ain’t nobody finna mess with us, I’m from South Central LA, we finna have a good time, I promise you that.”

Like I said, I was high. It made no sense.

Will: “Man, let’s just go. Let’s just do it. I came all the way out here, I want to get on the swamp tour.”

Jada: “I don’t know, I don’t think it’s gonna be okay, I don’t know.”

Tiffany: “Nobody’s gonna bother us. I promise you ain’t nobody gonna bother us.”

I went in and got the tickets myself, and we were all set for one of the boats. I got Jada and Will out of the car, and we went to the boat, and nobody was saying nothing. This was 2016, everyone was on their phones, right?

Then this redneck dude with missing teeth yelled out, “Oh shoot, that’s Will Smith, right there.”

And everybody on the boat noticed, right as we stepped on the boat. They started clapping, everybody started hollering and cheering. I stepped on first, and I was like:

Tiffany: “Thank you, thank you everyone, thank you so much.”

And people literally yelled out, “No, not you. Move out of the way!! Will, Jada! Oh my gosh!”

And I was like, That’s messed up. I’m the one who brought them!

Redneck: “Hey Will, what part of Philadelphia you from?”

Will: “West Philadelphia.”

Redneck: “Born and raised, right? Did you spend most of your days on the playground?”

Will: “Yeah. Yeah, man.”

Redneck: “Can I get a picture?”

Then a girl jumped up and she asked if she can get a picture, and somebody else asked if they can get a picture, and then Will stood up:

Will: “Look, ladies and gentlemen, this is the Cajun swamp tour, not the Will Smith tour. So let’s just enjoy ourselves and see what we can see, and once we’re done on this tour, then maybe Jada and I will take pictures with you. Is that okay with everybody? Is that all right with everybody?”

Everyone cheered for him again. I was all mad and jealous, because he didn’t even say anything funny, and they’re cheering and clapping and laughing. This is what fame and money does. I need to get some damn money.

But it worked. We were just enjoying the swamp tour, and we were learning about nutria, which is the largest rodent. We learned about the different birds in the swamp. It was really beautiful. We saw like six alligators, and we got to feed marshmallows to the raccoons and alligators, it was really cool.

Will kept asking the tour guide a bunch of questions and stuff, and everybody was loving that, because Will Smith was talking.

Near the end of the tour, Will was just sitting there with his legs crossed, like how rich guys cross their legs, the ankle on the knee so their balls can drop, and he was just sitting there chilling.

Will: “Man, Tiffany, this is beautiful.”

Tiffany: “I know, right?”

Will: “I’m gonna have to get me one of these.”

Tiffany: “What, one of these boats?”

Will: “No, a swamp.”

Tiffany: “What?!”

I was thinking to myself, This nigga ’bout to buy an ecosystem?

I couldn’t just let him top me, though.

Tiffany: “You know what, I’m gonna buy me something, too.”

Will: “What?”

Tiffany: “I’m gonna buy me an iceberg, and I’m gonna melt it into yo swamp. Fuck up all yo complex ecosystem.”

Will: “Hahahahahahaha. You’re crazy, Tiffany.”

Tiffany: “I might be. I might be crazy. Or maybe I’m just high as fuck.”

Getting a Hollywood Assistant

Another thing Jada and Will talked to me about was getting an assistant. They insisted that I hire one.

They explained that having an assistant—giving somebody else the responsibility of the smaller things, the day-to-day things that you would normally do—helps you to be more focused on your art and your talent:

Jada: “Tiffany, you shouldn’t have to be running the dogs to the groomer’s or taking clothes to the dry cleaner’s. That’s an assistant’s job. They should be helping you with that.”

Tiffany: “Really?”

Jada: “Yes! You need peace and quiet for your art. Your assistant should be screening calls so you don’t have to be talking to everybody, because you need your peace. It’s very important to have your peace.”

Tiffany: “I like peace and quiet.”

Jada: “If you have an assistant, then they can take a lot of the worry and the stress off you. Because the more successful you get, the heavier the workload gets, and the more normal things that you would do, you can’t do anymore, because you got other things to deal with. So give that responsibility to someone else.”

So I hired a dude to be my assistant.

My lawyer wrote up the NDA, got it signed. And this guy worked for me for like a week. He was cool, very happy, and nice.

I fired him right away.

I just didn’t feel comfortable with it. I don’t know why. I feel like it’s me giving up my power, and I can’t give up my power.

I worked so hard to be independent and to have things for myself, and take care of myself. It’s hard for me to let somebody else take care of me. Plus, I’ve been taking care of myself for so long.

He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just me. I got trust issues.

One of my friends asked me why I felt this way. I think about it all the time. Part of it is my childhood and what I’ve been through. I could never really rely on anybody, I always had to do things myself. It’s just hard changing those thought patterns, you know?

And also, I have trust issues with people being in my personal stuff. For example, I shop a lot online, I don’t want nobody telling me, “Jeez, you’re buying a lot of stuff from Amazon and Tophatter, why you got so many Groupons? Like, you’re doing a lot of Groupon stuff, why are you doing all this stuff?”

For example, I bought two cases of wine off of Groupon, because they had unicorns on the bottle. I buy sex toys on Amazon. I buy all kinds of things that people think are stupid, and I AM TIRED OF EXPLAINING MYSELF!

I guess I should explain that, too. This was not my first attempt at hiring an assistant. I got baggage here, as well.

Two years ago, my best friend was my assistant. She did part-time work for me, assistant-type stuff. She was always in my business, criticizing me.

Friend: “Oh my God, Tiffany, why did you buy this?”

Tiffany: “Shut up. I’m gonna buy this stuff, I’ll buy whatever I want to buy.”

Friend: “But you’re like, wasting money on gadgets that barely work.”

Can you imagine having that conversation with someone? I don’t want nobody telling me anything about how I spend my money.

I had to let her go. She was getting to be like my mama.

It all started when I shot this Tyler Perry series in Georgia. I needed help with getting a place to stay, learning my lines, and just getting settled in Georgia. One day, I had been talking to her on the phone, and I was like:

Tiffany: “Yeah, I gotta get somebody to help me find a spot out there.”

Friend: “I’ll help you. Shoot, I’m not working right now. You should let me work for you.”

Tiffany: “Cool. But I can only afford like $400 a month.”

Friend: “That’s what’s up. I’m just gonna be excited to be out there.”

She helped me find this three-bedroom house that was only like $400 a month, so that was dope. And then she did everything for me, got the furniture for me, and she would do the grocery shopping. I had brought my dogs with me, so she would walk the dogs. And when I would get home from work, she would run the lines with me.

And she helped me with my emails. At the time I had like 8,000 emails that I hadn’t even checked yet, so she checked all of them.

Yeah, I know. 8,000 unread emails. And a lot of them were important.

Friend: “Tiffany, you’ve got to check your emails more often. You know you probably missed twenty or thirty thousand dollars in comedy shows alone?”

Tiffany: “Wait—what?”

Friend: “So many people emailing you about doing comedy shows. Oh my God, Tiffany, you missed so much money not checking these emails.”

A lot of them were recent, and I ended up making an additional four or five thousand dollars off a few of the emails.

When we were in Georgia, it was fun. When we got back to LA, I told her:

Tiffany: “I’m not working like that no more, and I don’t really need an assistant.”

Friend: “I’ll just work anyways, I’ll do it anyways. You don’t need to pay me.”

That did not work out. Basically, the next few months was just her questioning what I did and then telling me what to do.

Friend: “You need to go to bed.”

Tiffany: “You ain’t my mama!”

Friend: “Go to bed, Tiffany, you need to go to bed. You gotta go to work tomorrow.”

Or when I was seeing this basketball player at the time, and she’d be like:

Friend: “You need to make him commit, he needs to make a commitment to you.”

Tiffany: “He ain’t your boyfriend, is he? I’m just enjoying him, leave me alone. I’m going to his game tonight.”

Friend: “You don’t have time for games, you’re busy. You need to call your agent, you need to call your manager, you got a telephone interview at six, you got a set tomorrow . . .”

Just like, ALWAYS telling me what I needed to do.

Which was what I was paying her to do. I mean, she was really good at it.

I just had issues with that.

So yeah, I had to fire her. We are still friends, but we don’t talk about money or my career anymore. It’s not awkward though. At least not for me.

I know that I do need somebody reminding me what to do. I procrastinate on everything. Like right now. I should’ve went to the grocery store yesterday to get groceries, because I’m gonna cook for my brothers and sisters tomorrow, but I’m like, “Eh, the grocery store is twenty-four hours, I’ll go later, I’ll do it later.”

Then when I get the groceries, it’ll be two o’clock in the morning, and I’ll get home, and I know I need to marinate this and do that and I’m just like, “Ah, I’ll do it in the morning.” Then I’ll wake up in the morning and be like, “Ah, I’m still sleepy, I’ll do it in a couple hours.”

Then everybody’ll be here, and then I’ll be doing it. Everybody’ll be waiting for the food and looking at me like, “Dang Tiff, you knew we was coming, didn’t you?”

Okay, so yeah, I got problems.

But I don’t want to be pestered about them!

How to Handle Backstabbing Bitches

My life is pretty good now, but sometimes I run into some motherfuckers and shit goes off. I’ll tell you about this one time, very recently, I was at a wedding.

My boyfriend (at the time) and I were the only black couple there. We looked good. It was all white people and us. Very fancy wedding, lots of rich people, etc.

I went in the bathroom and was sitting in the stall peeing. Then, two ladies came in. They must have thought they were alone, because they started talking loud:

Old Lady 1: “You see that big, black butt that she got? Oh yeah, she could not fuck him right.”

Old Lady 2: “We’ll get her ass out of here, some way. We’re going to fuck him. We’re going to . . .”

And for ten minutes I heard them say terrible racist shit about me, and talk about getting my boyfriend to leave with them.

I just sat there, quiet. I was listening, getting madder and madder. I was two glasses of wine in already, so I was ready to fight these ladies. I sent a text message to Hollywood Friends 1 and 2 like:

“These old bitches at this wedding being racist as hell. I’m about to kick they asses. I’m sorry if I don’t see you all for a while because I’m about to be in jail.”

Hollywood Friend 1 called me immediately. Now mind you, I’m still sitting in the stall:

Hollywood Friend 1: “Tiffany, just leave. Just get an Uber right now and just walk out the door.”

Tiffany: “I can’t do it, I got to fight these bitches.”

Hollywood Friend 1: “I’m not getting off the phone with you until you walk out the door. Just leave. Leave. Leave.”

I opened the stall door, still on the phone with Hollywood Friend 1, and these two bitches gave me a look of shock and horror. They had no idea I was there.

Tiffany: “Okay, I will leave these fat-ass, Paula Deen–looking bitches to themselves, and get the hell out of this wedding.”

I thought those women were going to straight die, right there in the bathroom.

I walked out, got my man, and we left. I was still steaming when we got back to the hotel. We had some good sex that night, I tell you what. He thought it was funny that they wanted to fuck him.

Boyfriend: “You should have let them try. I would have put them on blast so bad.”

The next day, Hollywood Friend 2 saw my text and called me. She stayed on the phone with me for two hours telling me about how racism works in Hollywood:

Hollywood Friend 2: “Honey child, let me explain. First off, what a blessing that you were able to hear them do it out loud, in your face. That’s a blessing. I have been through so many experiences where they did it behind my back, or they just shut me down. That’s what they do. They close you out. Be grateful that you got to hear it live and see it.”

Tiffany: “How is that good?”

Hollywood Friend 2: “Because now you know those two are the enemy. Now you are aware. It’s the ones that are sweet to your face and plotting behind your back that you have to worry about.”

Tiffany: “Oh yeah. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

Hollywood Friend 2: “The thing that’s so bad about it is they do it to each other, too. Even worse. Them white women attack each other, and they go for each other’s heads. Just imagine how they did you, imagine that times ten on each other. Their racism, is not even like racism. It’s like sexism. You’re fucking a richer guy or a hotter guy, so now I’m going to destroy you.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, I can see that.”

Hollywood Friend 2: “Now imagine if you’re a black woman and you’re fucking a richer guy that they want to fuck. Now they’re going to try to destroy you, because you’re getting the dick they want and you’re getting the money funneled down to you. See, boil it all down, Tiffany, it comes down to money and status. It ain’t even about race.”

Tiffany: “It’s crazy, but yeah, I can see that. Oh my God. This sounds like Illuminati shit. But you’re right. You trippin’ me out. I feel like I’m watching a YouTube video.”

Hollywood Friend 2: “At the end of the day, Tiffany, you just have to be gracious. You have to smile and when they say something you don’t like, you figure out how to Dallas they ass.”

Tiffany: “Dallas?”

Hollywood Friend 2: “Knots Landing they motherfucking ass. You got to get like a soap opera. You got to get down and dirty . . . but do it classy. Get down and dirty, but do it classy. Let these bitches know you not afraid to fuck them up.”

Tiffany: “What do you mean? Should I fight?”

Hollywood Friend 2: “No, not with your hands! That’s ghetto. With your words, with your actions, with your thoughts, with your success. You kill them with your success, Tiffany. You kill them with your success. Then they’ll have to kiss your motherfucking feet.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

Hollywood Friend 2: “You do it right, and you’re going to have these bitches walking behind you trying to clean your shit up, just like Oprah. You see what Oprah did? Them bitches will lick her ass. You know why? Because she killing them with her success. They’ve been racist towards her. They’ve been mean to her. They called her ‘fat, black Harpo,’ all that. Yeah, but who’s on top? She says I like watermelon martinis, and boom—everybody drinking watermelon martinis now, Tiffany. Because Oprah said she liked them.”

Tiffany: “Watermelon martinis is pretty good though.”

Hollywood Friend 2: “Just stay focused, stay successful, and you shut these bitches down cleverly. Be smart and watch these soap operas, and stay classy, and you’ll get there.”

So now I watch soap operas for ideas on how to handle backstabbing bitches.

Hollywood Accounting

Me and my accountant get into it all the time.

Accountant: “What are you buying from PayPal, you’re buying a lot of things from PayPal but it doesn’t say exactly what it is.”

Tiffany: “It’s none of your business.”

Accountant: “Tiffany, I cannot legally write it off your taxes unless you tell me what it is!”

So I told him. I had bought this book . . . I’m so fucking embarrassed about this, but I have to share it. Maybe it’ll help me get past it. This book is basically how to get a man and how to get your ex back, or how to get a man to be into you, right? It’s by this guy who’s like a relationship advisor guy, and to be a member of his thing is like $39.99 a month, and you get a book and text messages and stuff.

Accountant: “What is this $39.99 a month, what’s this for?”

Tiffany: “For my education, it’s an educational program.”

Accountant: “For what?”

Tiffany: “For guys, to know men better. It helps me in my comedy.”

Accountant: “I can’t write that off.”

Tiffany: “Yeah-huh! It’s relationship stuff, and I talk about relationship stuff in my comedy.”

I fuss with him about all kinds of things.

Accountant: “You can’t use business credit cards to buy weed, Tiffany, that’s not cool. That’s health stuff.”

Tiffany: “It’s my medicine. I have a prescription from a doctor. So I can ease my back pain and get onstage and perform. So you have to write that off, too.”

I buy too much weird stuff that pisses him off. I bought a $300 microscope, because I’m into science.

Accountant: “You can’t write off a microscope! It does not affect your business. How does that help you with acting or comedy?”

Tiffany: “Well, it helps me with comedy, because I talk about bacteria and stuff onstage, and I have to research the bacteria, so I’m not giving off false information.”

He didn’t believe me, so he brought his buddy to the comedy show, to my special, and he’s like:

Accountant: “Yep, this is who I was telling you about, with the microscope and the seducing men books.”

I got all angry—don’t tell everybody that!

Of course, I’m writing about it here, which is worse. But damn, that’s my decision to spread my business, not his!

Queen Latifah’s House Party

Queen Latifah had a party at her house and invited me. I asked her if I could bring a couple of my comedian friends, Hannibal Buress and Lil’ Rel.

Queen Latifah: “Do they got something to lose?”

Tiffany: “What?”

Queen Latifah: “You never invite nobody to your house, unless they got something to lose.”

Tiffany: “Well, they’re pretty popular entertainers, so I think they got something to lose.”

Queen Latifah: “Yeah, okay, well they welcome to come. Long as they got something to lose.”

So we all went to her house, and it was Fourth of July. She’s having a party, and we were drinking and having a good time. All kinds of famous people were there. I was in the pool, standing there, drinking and talking to Larenz Tate and his brothers.

I heard a voice that I recognized. I turned and looked, then turned back to the guys and said:

Tiffany: “You guys, is that Mary J. Blige, or am I tripping?”

Larenz: “No, that’s Mary J. Blige.”

I started backstroking towards her, all smooth right? And I was like:

Tiffany: “Hey girl, how you doing?”

And I just started talking to her, but I was so drunk.

Tiffany: “Me and my friends, we love your music, we used to bump it all the time, we still be bumping it.”

And I started singing some of her songs to her, and she was laughing.

Mary: “What do you do?”

I got out the water, but I had been drinking so much that I was bloated, so my swimming suit was crawling up in my butt, it was just looking bad. So I’m trying to dig my swimming suit out my ass, and Mary J. Blige was looking at me crazy.

Tiffany: “I know you looking at me crazy, but look, I just signed a modeling contract.”

Mary: “You did?”

Tiffany: “Yep, with Big Lots. I’m a swimsuit model for them. Regular body edition, girl.”

And she just fell out laughing.

Mary: “You crazy, girl!”

So Mary offered me a drink, or maybe three, or six, and I don’t remember too much after that. Music had come on, I started dancing and stuff. I was just having a good time, but I know eventually that Queen Latifah came over and got me and was like:

Queen Latifah: “Tiffany, it’s time to go in the house, you tripping.”

Tiffany: “Am I being bad?”

Queen Latifah: “Girl, yo ass is crazy. You need to go in the house.”

So she took me in the house, and I just fell asleep immediately.

That’s right, I FELL ASLEEP. I did not PASS OUT. I was just tired, and so I went to SLEEP.

Lil’ Rel and Hannibal put sunglasses on me. When I was ASLEEP. They would take turns closing my mouth ’cause my ass was light snoring every time my mouth opened, and it was bothering everyone who was playing games like Taboo and Spades.

The next day at the movie set, Queen Latifah was clowning me.

Queen Latifah: “Tiffany, you was so funny. You was just dancing all crazy. I haven’t seen Mary J. Blige laugh like that in years.”

Tiffany: “For real?”

Queen Latifah: “You was the only person that was talking to her, besides me and her sister, and Mary said she really enjoyed you.”

Tiffany: “Really?”

Jada: “Yeah girl, it was fun.”

Tiffany: “Jada, you was at the party, too?”

They thought that shit was real funny, that I didn’t even know Jada was at the party. I guess I SLEPT a lot.

A few weeks later, Mary J. Blige’s security texted me up:

Security: “Hey, you need to hang out with Mary more, she going through her divorce and stuff, and she said that you her favorite comedian, that you are so funny, she had such a good time with you. You need to come hang out with us.”

If my sixteen-year-old self had seen that text, I would have died. Right there on the curb, dead.

But my thirty-five-year-old self had a TV show to film! I had just got back on The Carmichael Show, so I couldn’t really hang out, I just didn’t have the time.

So yeah: Mary J. Blige wanted me to come hang out, and I was like, “I would love to, but I don’t have the time.”

Sorry, Mary! But for real, hit me up again when you in LA, girl. I got my Big Lots modeling money, we’ll do it right!

Dave Chappelle

I did a show one time (not in LA, in Ohio), and Dave Chappelle showed up to the show. When he came off stage, he was like:

Dave: “Tiffany, you’re a genius.”

DAVE CHAPPELLE THINKS I’M A GENIUS!

I wasn’t about to let this moment pass by, though. I immediately hit him up.

Tiffany: “Thank you, thank you. I’m trying to work on doing my own show, I’d love for you to be on my show.”

Dave: “What show you trying to do?”

Tiffany: “It’s called Judge Ratchet, and I’m the judge, and I’m taking cases that you can’t take to real court.”

Dave: “Like what?”

Tiffany: “Like, if somebody a dope dealer, and they lose their dope, ’cause somebody get arrested with it or whatever, and then they sue them, ’cause they want their money. They want the dope back, or they want the money back. Baby mamas tripping, just really stupid stuff, stuff you can’t take to real court.”

Dave: “Ah, that’s genius, I’mma do it.”

Tiffany: “Cool, perfect, when you gonna be in town?”

Dave: “No time soon!”

I was like, okay. At least he was nice about blowing me off.

But now every time I run into him or I see him, he’s like, “You are so good, you’re a genius.” He’s always telling me I’m a genius, so that makes me feel good. But he didn’t ever show up.

Dave is supposed to be all anti-Hollywood, but ain’t that about the most Hollywood thing ever—a star promising shit that they don’t deliver on? (I’m kidding, I love you Dave!)