The Last Black Unicorn(47)
Then I responded to myself, Yeah, people gonna see me, though, all over the world. Then, my daddy gonna see me, and then he gonna come visit me, and then life is gonna be great.
I was trying to make myself feel better, and I did feel better.
Even though I bombed, getting to the second round helped my career. I did some stand-up on a couple of late night TV shows, and then I ended up doing HBO’s Def Comedy Jam, and then Def Comedy Jam started getting me other shows.
Then I got a movie with Mike Epps, and that started getting me to colleges. It’s kind of full circle, ’cause NYU wanted to charge me $30,000 a semester to attend, and now, I’m going to all these different colleges, and they’re paying me $2000 to tell jokes for like forty-five minutes. I felt like the dopest person in the world. I was getting paid to go to school. I wasn’t really learning anything, but still.
Once I got divorced, it was like the floodgates opened. The quality of my comedy just got way better. I had more time to focus on the art of it, and I was getting to know myself better. I was paying attention to my feelings about things.
In stand-up, you do need to be having fun up there like Richard Pryor said, but you have to know yourself well, too. You have to know when you make different faces, or do different things, you get certain reactions. You start learning and it’s like playing a piano. You just know exactly what keys to stroke, ’cause really with comedy, you’re like fiddling with people’s souls. You resonate on the same frequency as them, trying to get them to relate.
To do that, you gotta put yourself out there. And in order to put yourself out there, you’ve gotta have an idea of who you are and how people react to that.
A lot of shows during this time stick out in my memory. I did a show in Arizona that was sold-out, and the thing that I remember the most about it was this lady sitting in the front row. She had this mean face. She was mean-mugging me the first ten, fifteen minutes of my set.
I made it my mission to make her laugh, and she would not laugh. It took me like twenty minutes to get her to laugh, and once she did laugh, though, she laughed so hard that snot flew out of her nose. After the show, I went out and danced all night in celebration. I was so proud of myself.
Another time, in the middle of the show, the heel on my shoe broke. So I just did like ten minutes about my shoe, how cheap the shoe was, why the shoe broke, all that. When I came off the stage, this lady came up to me.
Lady: “You were amazing. I peed on myself. I peed on myself.”
Tiffany: “Oh, thank you. How many kids do you have?”
You know, because women be peeing themselves after they have babies.
Lots of bad shows, too. I used to host this room at the San Manuel Casino every Wednesday night, and this one night, a girl was definitely intoxicated. She kept talking through everybody’s set, and I was hosting the show. I kept saying, “Watch yourself. Let everybody enjoy the show. You need to be quiet. Calm down.” After the third comic, she started again, and it went off.
Drunk Girl: “Yo, is this guy gonna be funny? Them others was stupid!!!”
Tiffany: “Look, I’m getting tired of you talking to people all disrespectful, and if you don’t quit, you’re gonna have a problem.”
Drunk Girl: “Bitch, you’re gonna have a problem, bitch.”
I went the fuck off. She started gangbanging, throwing up signs and talking crazy, so I started banging back. I ain’t even from no gang, but I start representing my old hood.
Drunk Girl: “Don’t trip. I’ll beat your ass right now, in front of everybody.”
Tiffany: “Come on. Come, beat my ass, bitch!”
At first, people were laughing, ’cause they thought I was just playing. Then I pulled my hair off. I took my shoes off, I took my earrings off. I balled up my fist, all furious, and I started praying into the microphone:
Tiffany: “Heavenly Father, give me the strength and the power to beat this girl down to the ground, and teach her she ain’t never supposed to be this disrespectful to anybody, because I give zero fucks, Lord. Just give me the power to whip her ass. All these things, I ask in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
I guess it was the way I said it, because people stopped laughing.
By the time she got close to the stage, security had grabbed her. Then two big Samoan chicks, who used to come every single week, came down right behind her. And then, these other two black girls that came all the time, they started whaling on her. Security had to drag that girl out, to stop her from getting killed. I was yelling from the stage:
Tiffany: “Bitch, getting your ass beat before you even get to the stage. We beating yo ass right now!!”
Everything got settled, and I introduced the headliner. Poor guy, how’s he gonna follow that shit? And I was so embarrassed. I had prayed out loud, in front of everybody, for the Lord to give me strength to whip a girl’s ass. It was so unprofessional. I was so embarrassed that I went so ghetto, so fast.
When I left from the show, I walked to the police car in the parking lot. It was the car that was taking her to the station, and she was sitting in the back. She was like a rabid dog—mad, face up against the glass, yelling and cussing, and I was like, damn. That was an hour ago, and she’s still crazy like that?
Another really bad night was when I was supposed to host this April Fool’s show in Atlanta. This place held three hundred people, but there was only thirty people there, and they didn’t pay me all my money. I only got half my money, and I had the worst set ever.