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.”