So, the Razzie nominations are out, and I have to confess something a little wild: I’ve actually seen some of these dumpster fire films. Yes, the ones that were so bad they were honored with a Razzie nod. And yet, I haven’t watched a single Oscar-nominated movie this year. Not a single one. What has happened to my once pure love of cinema? Have I fallen out of love with thought-provoking narratives, artistic cinematography, and long-winded speeches thanking producers I’ve never heard of?

As I mull over that existential crisis, I realize—there’s something absolutely delightful about awarding terrible movies. It’s like that little slice of joy that comes from poking fun at the sheer audacity of it all. The Oscars are all about worshipping perfection, but the Razzies? They are the glorious celebration of failure in its most spectacular form. And honestly, that feels a lot more relatable these days.

This got me thinking: Why don’t we have more Razzie-like ceremonies in our everyday lives? What if we gave out awards for things we’re terrible at? The “Most Likely to Forget Their Password… Again” award. Or “Best at Pretending to Know What’s Happening on Zoom” at work (wait, scratch that—I see HR problems in my future).

But imagine how cathartic it would be to host a family Razzie night! The self-deprecation, the laughter, the shared acknowledgement that, yeah, I’m probably the worst at folding laundry, but it’s OK because at least I’m owning it. It’s a celebration of the fact that we don’t have to be perfect—and that’s kind of freeing, isn’t it?

So, while I’ll leave the Oscars to the professionals and the critics, I think I’ll reserve a little piece of my heart for the Razzies and embrace the joy of being bad. Now if only I could nominate my inability to finish that one thing I started last week… or, let’s be honest, last year.