I’m back! That’s right, after taking a hiatus for the last few years, I am back to writing for StripLV. I’ve missed you! Ready for some more adventures of Tiffany Masters? For those new readers that are unfamiliar, I will recap who I am, what I do, and where I have been. Buckle up, it’s going to be a ride. Not exactly the ride like last weekend’s sexscapade, but I’ll take you on a ride around the world with me. Disease-free!
I’ve decided to get in front of this sexy ass photographer and get back into the game, doing photo shoots and writing a column for StripLV once again. I seem to be a magnet for drama and adventure, so why not make a career of it? Shockingly, I found out people actually read my columns, and it wasn’t all about the nude photos. I have strangers approach me saying their favorite column is when I got chased by pimps in Belize, or the time I was trapped in the whorehouse, (aka strip club full of 15 year-olds) in El Salvador. Personally, I think the best story I had of all time is from the weekend in Brazil. I’m alive and not a Brazilian sex slave, like I had feared. Boy, that was a close one. It’s still weird learning that the man that “arrested” me for going topless in a national forest for a photo shoot let me go for a whopping $67 in U.S. cash. That’s all he had on us. Lol. I’ve never been so scared in my life, driving through the jungle for 10 minutes until he jumped out
of the car IN THE MIDDLE OF THE JUNGLE. I started to get out with him, thinking ‘This is it! Get on your knees or bend over!’ (He was holding a machine gun! What would you think?) My photographer grabbed me by my arm to get back in the van and explained to me in broken English they paid a “fine” and let me go. (sigh) So my ransom was under $100. Wow…
My new adventures are going to be taking you to Greece, Spain, Thailand, Singapore, China, New Orleans, Bali, and many more. My best friend and I came up with this idea called THE BUCKET LIST: Everything we want to do before we get married. I mean, face it, once you get married, life is over as you know it. For example, she and I went to Super Bowl this year and crashed it. I’ll be damned! We got in—great seats and a great time at all the parties! It was on our list and we did it!! If there were men in our lives, they probably wouldn’t have let us run off and accomplish it. There are fun things we accomplished too, like seeing a ping pong show in Bangkok. (cough-cough) We ended up getting more than the fake Gucci on the streets and ping pongs shot at us. I look forward to sharing my stories and introducing you to my girlfriends.
You may be wondering, what is it that I do. Good question. I’ve been trying to figure this out myself after 12 years in Vegas. I question this usually on a Sunday morning lying in a fetal position with a hangover in bed. I throw events as a career in Vegas and have done a few reality shows. You may have seen me throwing parties on E! “Sunset Tan”, and several episodes of my Cabana Candy Girls and I on True TV Network’s “Rehab Party” at the Hard Rock. I am so glad that’s over – 123-degree heat index with Jersey Shore dudes, drunks, and horny 21 year-olds in bikinis. I had a blast though. I love to party, and getting paid to so works! Some nights I’m hosting tables with Princes, and other nights I have a rowdy bachelor party with a budget of half a million dollars. True! Google me, lol. Let’s get this straight: I’m an open and honest book. These stories are real. No bullshit. I used to say: “Only in Vegas,” but my friends laugh and say “Only Tiffany.” I’m the one that gets shot at in the middle of a robbery chase and ends up in the paper with a hooker in my car. I’m not a porn star like the tabloids try to portray me and certainly not a Madame – even though Miss Nevada was decrowned and the press blamed me, saying I had a “legal escort business.” Whatever! I’ve had a ton of pride of never talking in this town. Tiger Woods’ story could have paid me big time, but I never spoke a word. I have more dirt in this town than a sandstorm big enough to take out Texas. Ya’ never know what story I may end up telling, but for now, I make fun of my adventures and myself. For now… everyone is safe (wink-wink).
The morning of my shoot with StripLV I stressed. I had nothing to wear!! Immediately I get on the phone and called my gay best friend. Duh! “It’s a nude magazine,” he replies. “You don’t wear anything!” There’s one thing about having gay best friends: They tell it as it is—like, if I look like I have too much makeup caked on my face, or how to lose weight in enough time to get naked for this shoot. Luckily, Marcus set me up with Francois, my stylist. He put me in this fabulous dress pictured here from Nurielle. Look at these shoes! Is there anyone with foot fetishes out there? These are sick!! You dirty rug, you. I will walk all over you in these stilettos. Ha! I love the freedom of writing for adult magazines. I can write about anything I want, uncensored, and I plan on it.
These pages are a diary of what I am loving in Vegas and around the world, and having the freedom to bitch. I like to plug local businesses in my columns. This is appropriate. My publisher had me take some photos in these Wax Bar T-shirts the same day I got this email from my mom:
NEVER “Do-It-Yourself” WAX YOUR HOO-HA
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal—the Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. Read on.....
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Fix dinner, watch the grandkids, come and go. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: ‘Maybe I should get the waxing kit from the medicine cabinet.’ So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those ‘cold wax’ kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!) So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing each other, stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in, so I get out the hairdryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (‘Cold wax’, yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire. With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the family, I sneak back into the bathroom for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my granny panties and place one foot on the toilet… Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip). I inhale deeply and brace myself.... RRRRIIIPPP!!!! I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!..... OH, MY GAWD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out.... I must stay conscious.... I must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe.... OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip... it’s not! I touch.... I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake ... remember, my foot is still propped up on the toilet? So I put my foot down. Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!!! I penguin-walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself: ‘Please don’t let me get the urge to poop.... My head may pop off!’ What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand in the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits, and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!* I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than what is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment – I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub.... in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt cold wax. So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!!
God bless the AT&T man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter. “So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!” There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal, but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, “Are we talking cheeks or hoo-ha?” She’s laughing out loud by now ... I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night. While we go through various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event. My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH, MY GOD!!! The scream probably woke the family and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care... “IT WORKS!!” I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair...... THE HAIR IS STILL THERE....... ALL OF IT! So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point. Next week I’m going to try “Do-It-Yourself” Anal Bleaching. How bad can that hurt?
“Author Unknown”
WAX Hair Removal Bar: I am definitely taking the girls to do a party there. My girlfriend wants to do the Anal bleaching. I plan on getting my Hoo-Ha waxed in the shape of a star. Think about it. Sex with a star! There’s your thought till next month. Meantime, find me on Facebook, under my fan page TiffMasters, or follow me on Twitter TiffanyMasters. To join any of my weekly events in Vegas or for any reservations, feel free to text Tiffany to 45424. SLV
Issue 66 featuring: Eufrat, Jade Bryce & Jessamyne |
