Stories with one thing slightly off.

Well, I just won Best Supporting Actress... for Worst Movie of the year. I’m not kidding. Apparently, this is an official award now. And I was graciously given this award for my abysmal performance. Cheers! Don’t worry, your champagne is free of arsenic... just don’t sneak a sip of mine.

The acceptance speech I was contractually handcuffed to give plays in my head on repeat, the track is nails on a chalkboard. Truthfully, I don’t remember a thing I said, but I’m pretty sure I hit all the marks for an ‘acceptance’ speech.

They really should call it an accountability speech. “Here, take this trophy and tell us how you fucked up so royally.”

I haven’t Googled my name since the Grammys. Why would I? My name will be forever associated with Best Supporting Actress for Worst Movie of the year.

The arsenic must be hitting me. I failed... yet again... to mention that this movie was intended to be a drama. Rotten Tomatoes says otherwise. I should have thanked those viewers who hate-watched and had a laugh.

They’re the ones paying my insulting royalties. I signed on the dotted line too quickly, don’t do that. Learn from me at the very least.

Usually, when you win any award associated with Best Movie of the Year, you’re flooded with brand deals, bypass auditions, land roles, and your schedule is booked for the next decade.

In my case, I’ve received a single brand deal. Slippers. It gets worse, they double as mop-duster-bullshits. It paid 15-grand, single payment, no residuals per purchase, zilch. Nationwide commercial, all social media.