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.