فصل 13

13

She Ready

How I Knew I Made It

I knew I made it in Hollywood when I went on The Arsenio Hall Show.

That’s kind of a weird specific marker to be my “when I made it” story, so let me explain.

I remember being a kid watching Arsenio. He was my idol. I remember wishing he was like my dad or my big brother or something like that. I would watch every single show, every minute of it.

I got in so much trouble for that, too. Because it came on at eleven at night, I would sneak in the closet and watch him on my little black-and-white TV. My mom used to beat me out the closet all the time over that.

Being a guest on his show was a dream for so long. When he went off the air in 1994, I thought I missed my shot.

Then, in 2013, he came back on the air. I got so excited. This could be my chance to get on there, and now that I’m a working comedian, I got a real shot, right?

Of course, I had to update my fantasy, too. Now that I’m older, maybe instead of him being my daddy, he could be my baby daddy.

I had a friend who got booked on the show, and he invited me to go with him. I met the talent booker, and she said maybe they could use me for a few sketches. I told her she could use me to clean toilets, if it got me on the show.

They used me to shoot this sketch called “I Married a Black Woman.” I gave 110 percent in that performance. The producers liked it, and they decided to have me come back again, and then for a third time. By the third one, I had been pitching them relentlessly on doing my stand-up, and they finally agreed to book me.

Tiffany: “Will I finally get to meet Arsenio?”

Producer: “Yeah, you’ll meet him, of course. On the show.”

Tiffany: “When I meet Arsenio, I’m telling y’all right now, I’m going to jump on him and I’m going to kiss him all over his face, and I’m going to tell him that he’s my favorite and that I want to have all his babies.”

Producer: “He already has kids. He has a son.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, but he don’t have a full black baby, and I could give that to him.”

Producer: “Uh . . . okay.”

Tiffany: “And I want to tell him I used to get whippings for him. I used to get in trouble for him. I got beat out the closet for him. I want him to know this!!”

Producer: “Okay, okay, Tiffany, you’ll meet him afterwards, no problem.”

I was a little crazy, I know, but this was my idol growing up.

So the day came, and I was off stage about to go on, and I heard him talking about me. He said something like:

Arsenio: “This next comedian coming to the stage, guys, not only is she beautiful, and funny, but she’s smart.”

I thought I was going to die right there. I swear, I was crying. There was tears coming out of my eyes. I was crying with joy.

Producer: “You okay?”

Tiffany: “ARSENIO SAID I WAS SMART AND BEAUTIFUL! DID YOU NOT HEAR THAT!! OH LORD THANK YOU LORD!”

Producer: “Pull yourself together, girl! You about to go out there!”

Tiffany: “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

I mean, that was like the biggest thing in the whole wide world.

I remember watching the video of me coming out onstage, and it looks like I was so confident and so self-assured. But inside, I was crying baby tears of joy, because Arsenio said I was smart. I did the set, and it was a great performance, but honestly, I don’t think I was mentally present for any of it. I was just so . . . I don’t know. Honestly, I was wet thinking about what he said.

When I was done, the whole crowd was cheering and clapping, and Arsenio came over to me. In my mind, I was about to jump on him and kiss him all over his face. But he scooped me up and picked me up and held me like a baby! So I guess the producer obviously told him I was going to jump on him.

He picked me up like a baby, and I was like, oh my God—I just started licking his face.

I couldn’t help myself. I was so happy.

Straight up—his face tastes just like Ovaltine. I think that they use Ovaltine for his foundation because he’s so chocolatey, I don’t know. But it tasted amazing.

I ended up being on there seven times. I came back as a correspondent for him. I would go into the audience, and be all over the studio, doing different funny things. And people really loved it. But then the show got canceled shortly thereafter.

That was the moment that started it all and led to everything—even this book. That was where I met Tyler Perry. He saw my “I Married a Black Woman” sketch, and he had me come in and audition. Then he hired me for a show. That led to me getting The Carmichael Show. From there, I booked movies like Keanu and Girls Trip.

I know it came from me and my hard work, but still, Arsenio Hall gave me a platform to be able to be seen being me. And I’m so grateful to him for that. That was pretty huge.

Oh, and it gets better!

We went to dinner!

We went to a late dinner, and I thought this was it. I thought this was going to be my chance. I was single right then. He was single right then. I know he old enough to be my dad, but I don’t care. I’ll help him raise his son. I’ll give him a full black baby. He was saying how he was a foodie, and hey, I like to eat food, too.

It was a really, really great dinner, and we laughed and had an amazing time. I thought I was going to get a kiss. I thought I was going to come up on something. But no. He just said, “Let’s go out to eat again.”

I was not aggressive with him, because I was trying not to be thirsty, like I was in high school and still am sometimes. It was real hard for me not to just blurt out: “What’s up with that dick, Arsenio?”

I wanted to, but I didn’t. I didn’t. I just told him he had very nice hands and that I loved his fingers. That’s all I said. I didn’t get too thirsty on him, though. But I sure wanted to.

Mama

My mom is still alive. She is in a mental institution in Riverside.

One time she was arrested, they took her to this place in Norwalk. They were healing her. Whatever medicines they was giving her, whatever they was doing, it was like she was normal.

I would go see her, and she was my mama. She didn’t say anything mean or try to hit me. She hugged me. She held me. We talked. I felt like I was six, seven years old again. Before the accident.

She asked me to get her out of there, so I did. Then she stopped taking that medication, and she went right back to beating my ass and being my crazy mom again.

She never hit any of my brothers and sisters or anything. She might cuss at them, but she didn’t hurt them. I asked her about that just recently.

Tiffany: “Mom, why you always try to fight me, but you don’t ever try to fight my siblings?”

Mama: “You look just like me, and I don’t like that.”

Tiffany: “So, you’re beating yourself up?”

Mama: “I guess so. I don’t like that you look like me, though. And you look like your ugly-ass daddy.”

Tiffany: “Now you gotta stop saying that, Mama, ’cause he’s not ugly. He’s not ugly. I’ve seen him. He’s not ugly.”

Mama: “Mm-hm. Maybe not to you.”

Tiffany: “Not to you either, you opened your legs to the man for three years.”

Then she popped me in the mouth. Dammit, I’m thirty-seven years old, still getting popped in the fucking mouth.

My goal is to get enough money to buy a duplex. I want to put her in one of the units and hire a full-time nurse to take care of her. Then, I want to get her on whatever medications they gave her when she was in Norwalk, so she can be my mama again.

Honestly, that’s all I really want from life.

How to Survive and Thrive in Hollywood

When I was hanging out with Jada in New Orleans shooting Girls Trip, I had a knockoff Michael Kors bag, and the lock fell off.

Jada: “You need real bags, you can’t be running around here with fake bags, what kind of bag is that?”

Tiffany: “This is my Martin Luther King bag. The lock fell off, so it’s free at last. Get it?”

Jada: “No, I don’t get it. It’s a fake. You have to get real designer stuff. You can’t be having knockoff stuff.”

Tiffany: “Well, that’s the kind of money I got, knockoff money, so that’s probably what kind of bag I should have, right?”

She shook her head and laughed at me. Later that week, she decided to go back to LA for the weekend, and invited me to go with her.

Tiffany: “That sounds fun, but how we gonna book a ticket this late? It’ll be too expensive. And I bet first class is filled up.”

Jada: “Book a ticket? Girl, we’re taking a private jet to LA.”

Tiffany: “Oh, I can’t. I’m not getting on no private jet.”

Jada: “Why?”

Tiffany: “Aaliyah. Never forget.”

Jada: “What?”

Tiffany: “Aaliyah, never forget! La Bamba, too.”

Jada: “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Tiffany: “Right when you are about to blow the fuck up, when you about to get hella super famous and have hella unlimited amounts of money, that’s when you get killed. And it’s always in a small plane. Unless there is ten white people on that flight, I cannot get on that flight.”

Jada: “Something is wrong with your brain.”

Tiffany: “Your husband said that to me, too.”

When she was in LA, I posted a picture of myself on Instagram in a dress I thought was nice. Jada hit me up on text:

Jada: “Get a better dress.”

She sent me all these links to these designer dresses, but they’re like $500.

Tiffany: “Jada, I feel very fly in my $85 dress.”

Jada: “Who made it, Tiffany?”

Tiffany: “Who cares? It look good.”

Jada: “lol, you keep doing you, Tiffany I’ll explain when I get back.”

She came back from LA, and she gave me this nice bag, a Givenchy. It had this huge picture of a barking dog on the side. It was mean-looking.

Tiffany: “What’s up with the dog?”

Jada: “Oh, I know you can’t afford security, so this should keep the mopes off you.”

Tiffany: “Thank you, Jada, that is so sweet.”

She left the price tag on, it was like $1200. I was like, Oh yeah! I struck gold.

Tiffany: “Oh my God, I’m taking this right to the pawnshop, and I’m gonna get my light bill paid for the rest of the year.”

Jada: “You cannot do that, that’s bad luck.”

Tiffany: “What are you talking about?”

Jada: “You’ve got to use it for at least six months before you can give it away. Or sell it. That is how you have to deal with a gift.”

Tiffany: “Oh, that’s what rich people do?”

Jada: “Yes Tiffany . . . it’s what we do.”

Tiffany: “Seriously though, Jada, I can’t be keeping this. This is too much.”

Jada: “It’s fine, it’s a gift from me. And I didn’t pay for it, the designers gave it to me.”

Tiffany: “Oh you got it free? Is that how you so rich, you get all this expensive shit for free?”

She started laughing at me.

Tiffany: “But seriously, I can’t have this. My philosophy is that if I can’t keep the amount of money in there that it costs, I shouldn’t have it. However much a bag costs, if the bag is a $300 bag, I should be able to keep $300 in it at all times, or it’s too expensive.”

Jada was laughing at me again.

Jada: “Well, Tiffany, why don’t you just put $1200 in there?”

Tiffany: “I can’t keep that much cash on me! This fake dog ain’t gonna stop robbers!”

Jada: “Well it’s a gift, and it’s the type of nice designer bag you should have. You need to find a way to use it.”

I thought about it, and came up with a great idea.

Tiffany: “Okay, I’ll get a money order for $1200 in there that’s made out to myself. That way, I can always have $1200 in my bag. For myself, and can’t nobody steal it!”

More laughing from Jada. I don’t know if she thinks my actual comedy is this funny.

She gave me three more Givenchys and a wallet (I was calling it Gio-van-nucci for like, two weeks, ’cause I can barely read, but it’s Givenchy). She left the price tags on everything.

Tiffany: “Why are you leaving the prices on if you got it free?”

Jada: “So you know the value of what you’re carrying around. You got to carry yourself like you’re valuable, and you need to have valuable things. When this movie comes out, you’re going to be an A-list actress, you’ve got to think like an A-list person. This is what I was talking about in that text I sent you.”

Tiffany: “What do you mean? I like my $85 dress.”

Jada: “Tiffany, you want to wear designer clothes, because people are going to be seeing you, you’re gonna be in the eye of the public and they’re gonna be like, what are you wearing? If you say Chico or Ann Taylor, that’s not going to work. You need to be wearing designers. It sets you apart from everybody else and puts you in a certain class level. If you want to be considered top-notch, you need to wear top-notch type things.”

Tiffany: “But Jada, this stuff costs money. I appreciate your gifts, I really do, but I can’t buy this myself. I have to be smart with my money, and save it. I gotta stack my chips, not spend ’em.”

Jada: “You absolutely should be smart with your money! If it makes you feel safe to stack your chips, stack ’em. Most people in Hollywood don’t do that, that’s smart.”

Tiffany: “I want to spend my money on things that I think will make me more money. That’s why I’m investing in my book. And my comedy special. That’s why I buy nice hair, it’s going to make me more money if I look better, like that.”

Jada: “That’s great, Tiffany, you do that. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Tiffany: “OK, but what I still don’t get is what does a $1200 bag have to do with that? If I buy shit like that, I’ll be broke. I need my knockoffs, they keep me from living in my car again.”

Jada: “Tiffany, your only two options are not either (1) spend all of your money to try and fit in, or (2) be cheap and look low-class. There are other options, girl!”

Tiffany: “Like what? I’m not about to steal that stuff!”

I couldn’t think of any other options from what she said, besides stealing.

Jada: “I’ll introduce you to some people, but really, all it boils down to is using your fame to get the stuff. Designers want famous, pretty women wearing their clothes. You put yourself on Instagram wearing a $500 dress, most places will give it to you for free, or very cheap.”

Tiffany: “Free is an option? Because I understand free, and I like that shit a lot. Free does make sense.”

I have thought about this a lot, and the more experience I get in Hollywood, the more I think Jada is right. I definitely have a very rough mentality, a broke person’s mentality. I have a little bit of money now, but I just stack it away like a chipmunk. I don’t know how much to spend, or where, or on what. It’s cool to save, but I need to use my money in smart ways to help myself and my career.

Now that I’ve earned my way to a new level in life, I have to do new things. I can’t be living that poor life anymore, I can’t be thinking that way. Poor mindset can work when you’re poor, but it doesn’t work well when you have a little money (I emphasize a little—I’m far from rich).

I know this, but honestly, part of me still feels like I could end up homeless again at any point in time, and then all I’m going to have is a bag with a dog on it. And I don’t want that. I’d rather have the money.

I want my money to make me money, but what Jada is teaching me is that how you look in Hollywood can often make you money. Opportunities in Hollywood will open up if you are sending the right signals about yourself. Fashion is part of how to send the right messages.

If I want to be the girl that belongs in Hollywood, I not only have to have talent, but I also have to signal to Hollywood that I belong.

By wearing cheap, low-class, knockoff stuff, I’m telling people that they can treat me low-class. That maybe I don’t belong on that higher level.

I have to value myself properly. That’s something I have had a hard time with in the past, but I’m getting better.

Jada: “Tiffany, I’m also going to need you to be wearing makeup when you’re out or onstage. And can you at least glue on some lashes and put on some lips daily?”

Tiffany: “I don’t feel like it. If it’s an audition? Yeah. If it’s an interview for something? Yeah. Otherwise, I feel like I should be able to walk around here naked-faced.”

Jada gave me that look you give a child when they are mad that gravity exists.

Jada: “Tiffany, that should be how it works. And it would be great if it was true. But it’s not how Hollywood works. You need to start wearing makeup. You’re a pretty girl, you need to let yourself look that way.”

Tiffany: “Okay, well when we get closer to the premiere of the movie, I’ll start wearing makeup, I promise. And it’ll be good makeup too, not the stuff I buy from the pharmacy.”

She laughed at that, too.

Daddy

My father just died on May 13, 2017.

I’m looking at him right now, his cremated remains, as I write this. He’s in a priority mail box, sitting on my dresser.

He didn’t want me at the hospital or anything. When he visited me in LA, he went to the hospital. He told the doctors not to tell me anything that’s going on with him. I know that he had congestive heart failure, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else.

Tiffany: “Dad, well, if you don’t let them tell me, what do you want me to do? What if you die?”

Dad: “I want you to cremate my body and take me back to Africa and put me next to my mother.”

He told the hospital not to call me or contact me until he was dead. They called me just before he died, because they felt like that was wrong. I flew up there, paid for the mortuary, everything.

I called one of his cousins to tell him. He started telling me about all this property I got in Africa, and that I’m actually a princess in his old village. That my dad was like a king in the village, but he ran away because of the war. Then he was saying, there’s back taxes that I need to pay and all this stuff. And if I come, I have to come with some type of security, because it’s still a war going on in the village, where my grandmother’s grave is. And I have to claim this land for the family, before the government finds out my father is dead, because they’ll confiscate it from the family, and then we won’t have nothing, and that’s what they living off of.

I didn’t know about any of this. This feels like it’s a movie. Hopefully, not a tragedy.

I just know that I married a man who promised to find my daddy. I got ten years with my dad. I learned a lot, but I also feel like he punked out on me.

Now he wants me to go to Africa. I don’t know. I am trying to find the funny in that. I still can’t find nothing funny about it, but I’m trying.

She Ready Now

The movie Girls Trip came out in July 2017, did thirty million in the opening weekend, and my life totally changed.

This used to be my normal conversation with directors and producers:

Tiffany: “Hey, I would like to work with you one day.”

Producer: “Ha, yeah, you’re a good comedian.”

Tiffany: “You best get on the Tiffany train while you can, because it’s about to take off.”

Then they all just blew me off.

Now those same directors and producers are blowing my phone up.

The day after the movie came out, I had a hundred text messages.

The next morning when I woke up, four hundred text messages.

That week, I got probably fifteen hundred different people texting me wanting to get together or work together or pitch me on something.

Now, mind you, fifty of the texts were from my ex-husband, trying to get me back. Three of them were from Titus, trying to have lunch and sit down with me at some point, and four other ex-boyfriends sending all kinds of stuff. But still, most were from real Hollywood people.

I gotta admit, that shit feels real good.

Honestly, part of me doesn’t want to work with those people. The people that I asked to give me a chance, the ones who said no, I kinda want to just ignore them. I mean, I’m not going to do that, it’s not professional, but still—I kinda want to.

The funniest part is that Rumpelstiltskin is all over me now. Remember that dude, the one who said, “The only way you can go on tour with me is if you putting out”?

Rumpelstiltskin called me the week after the movie came out:

Rumpelstiltskin: “Hey Tiff, my mom said that you amazing and that I’m a fool for not having you on my shows and stuff. I should have been working with you a long time ago.”

Tiffany: “Your mama right, she a smart woman. I told you that, too.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Yeah, so how would you feel about doing a tour with me, you, some other comedians. How do you feel about that?”

Tiffany: “I don’t know. You headlining it?”

Rumpelstiltskin: “No, no, no, no, no. I’m going to host. You be the headliner. You the main attraction. You the big deal.”

Tiffany: “I’m listening.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “I talked to your people, they say you get a thousand dollars a minute.”

Tiffany: “That’s right. It used to be a dollar a minute. Now it’s a thousand dollars a minute. That’s right.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Oooo, that’s a little steep. How about if we do thirty-four shows, and half of them will be in theaters and the other half will be in arenas. How would you feel about making eighteen-five a show?”

Tiffany: “Eighteen thousand five hundred dollars?”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Yeah.”

Tiffany: “Mm, I don’t know. That’s half my normal fee.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Yeah, but all you got to do is show up!”

Tiffany: “I can’t even say that I’m going to be able to show up at all. See, Kevin Hart just called me and asked me to do a movie with him. So, I’m gonna do the movie. ’Cause that’s a A-list movie.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Well, maybe we can work around your movie schedule.”

Tiffany: “Well, see, I already have my own shows booked. A bunch of them. I mean, you have to work around the dates I already have booked. You know how it is—I’m headlining my own shows. They’re already sold out, most of ’em. So, I don’t know what to tell you, man. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “You can tell me yes.”

Tiffany: “I think you really shouldn’t even be talking to me. You need to be talking to my team.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “But I’m talking to you first, because I want to make sure it’s cool with you before I present it to your team.”

Tiffany: “Well, you need to present it to my team. Then if they present it to me in a manner that it seems like it’s financially feasible, then I will take that on.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Okay, okay, I will do that. Right away.”

Tiffany: “Also, I need you to tell my people who’s putting out on this tour. I’ll need to know that.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “What?”

Tiffany: “Who’s putting out on this tour, ’cause I know it ain’t me.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Tiffany, Tiffany, those was jokes. Those was jokes. You KNOW those was jokes.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, maybe. Except, you never did let me come on tour with you. If it was a joke, you would have booked me, if it was a joke.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Don’t be holding on to old shit. Let that shit go now. Just let that shit go. Let it go. That’s the past. That’s the past. We living in the now.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rumpelstiltskin, sound like somebody about to make a whole lotta money, and it ain’t gonna be me. I don’t know.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Girl, you must be about to start your period. I’m gonna call you back.”

Two days later, he called back.

Rumpelstiltskin: “We put the offer in to your people, Tiffany. Now you just gotta tell them you want to do it.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, okay. But it sound like to me, somebody is trying to eat off of my plate. I don’t know if a thousand dollars a minute gonna get it anymore. I really don’t know if that’s gonna get it. You know?”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Well shit, if you do forty minutes, that’s forty thousand dollars.”

Tiffany: “I know, right? And if you sold out an arena, and you selling tickets for $50 to $150 a ticket, shit, that’s going to be more than that. That’s going to be a lot more. Well into the six figures. I mean, I’m going to need to make some money, too.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Who are you right now?”

Tiffany: “I’m Tiffany-Motherfucking-Haddish, who I always been! Rumpelstiltskin, I like you, I really do, but you not going to take advantage of me, Rumpelstiltskin. That’s not going to happen.”

Rumpelstiltskin: “Ah baby, you hilarious. You hilarious.”

Tiffany: “Nah, but for real, go talk to my team, and I will discuss it with them, and they will get back to you later.”

I just hung up the phone.

Oh BOY, that call felt good!!

I was so close to saying this to him: “Yeah, I’ll do it, if you open up that booty hole. You gotta open up that booty hole for me, though.”

I didn’t say that, though. I sure wanted to, but I didn’t. Rumpelstiltskin may not be a great person, but he’s not a bad person. He’s all right, he doesn’t deserve that sort of treatment. And it’s unprofessional, and I’m not going to be like that.

But seriously, that’s the kind of stuff that’s been going on. A lot of people that told me I couldn’t make it, or tried to take advantage of me, now they are trying to figure out a different way to take advantage or be on my team in some kind of way.

But that’s not going to happen. I’m a survivor, and all this struggle I went through—while it sucked at the time—is really helping me now. It has helped me get to where I am, and it will help me continue to improve and do better.

It didn’t always feel like it at times, but I truly believe I am blessed.

We Not Done

Growing up, I just wanted to feel wanted.

I often think about having kids. Since I am single as fuck and getting older, I’m thinking I will adopt a kid. Maybe an eight-year-old or a nine-year-old, something like that.

I was in that spot. When you’re like ten and a foster kid, nobody wants you around, because they think you’re done. There’s no way you’re going to come out from that situation undamaged.

I remember when I was in school, the social worker was like, “Her comprehension is not good.”

I comprehended very well. I knew what they was talking about. I was just quiet, because I didn’t want to get popped. Because there was popping at the school back then, in the hood in South Central. Them teachers would slap the shit out your ass.

Before high school, I didn’t talk much. When I did talk, I was on the playground. I would want to play with the boys, because if somebody picked on me while I was playing basketball, the other dudes would be like, “Man, leave her alone. She’s with us.” They would protect me.

That’s what I wanted. Someone to protect me. Something to be part of.

Eventually, I realized the only thing I could really be a part of was drama or being the mascot or working the Bar Mitzvahs. That’s the only way I could feel included.

What did they all have in common?

Entertainment. Performing. Being something that other people wanted me to be. Those were the only things I’d be included in.

Not to be Tiffany. To be outside of myself. Because myself wasn’t necessarily . . . I felt like I wasn’t good enough. Just being me wasn’t good enough. Not for my parents, not for school, not for anything.

I got into the entertainment business so I could feel accepted. And loved. And safe.

When I go onstage to do comedy, it’s about me. I feel accepted for who I am. I can go onstage with my hair fucked up, no makeup, ugly-ass clothes I’ve been wearing for three days, and people still appreciate me. They still laugh.

Being onstage is my safest place. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like nobody’s going to jump up and beat me, and if somebody do beat me, there’s so many people in here they’re going to stop it.

And it’s onstage where my voice is heard. I’m not being shut out. It’s where I am accepted.

I just shot my special in a theater that seats four hundred people. They had to turn lots of people away. Those people came to see me. Whether it was to see me succeed or to see me fail, they still came for me.

It’s a safe place, like I’m being loved and admired. I know it’s not really that, but it’s the closest I’ve ever really had, so far.

I didn’t start out with the intention of writing about all this painful stuff. I just wanted to write a funny book.

I don’t normally like getting all deep into painful shit. I like to skip across the ocean of emotion. I feel like that’s better.

But once I started working on this book, I got into all this shit. If something comes up, I’m going to talk about it. I’m going to tell you about it, and if it hurts, that’s too bad. I’m going to be like, “Yo, that shit hurt, but let me tell you though.”

That’s who I am.

I feel like, honestly, that’s the only reason I’m still alive. Because I’m willing to talk about my stuff. Whether it’s onstage, or with friends, or in this book.

I think that’s why I came back to comedy, after being out of it for a while in my teens and early twenties. So I had a place to talk about my painful stuff, to share it, and to do it in a way that worked, and helped out other people, too.

My friend told me that people who haven’t lived anything even close to a life like mine, even they think they are the fucked up ones, and that everyone else is normal:

Friend: “Tiffany, everyone has some version of this in their life. Everyone has their own personal pain and their own demons, and no one will talk about it, and that’s why they never get better. They’re all afraid to talk about it.”

I guess I’m not afraid to talk about it.

It just hurts a lot when I do.

I believe in God. And I believe I have a purpose in life. I believe we all do. I believe you do, too.

I believe my purpose is to bring joy to people, to make them laugh, and to share my story to help them. To show people that no matter what, they matter, and they can succeed. No matter how bad things go, no matter how dark your life is, there is a reason for it. You can find beauty in it, and you can get better. I know, because I’ve done it.

That’s why my comedy so often comes from my pain. In my life, and I hope in yours, I want us to grow roses out of the poop.