Remember how bad Robert de Niro is in these movies? It's as if he's method acting as a person with permanent constipation.

Two friends of mine recently had a baby. Cute little thing. Tiny hands, tiny feet, cries a lot.

When I met the baby for the first time, the husband commented that for the month since the baby was born, he’s been pretty much useless. And not for lack of trying. It’s just that the baby’s core needs are filled by his wife at this time.

Specifically, his nipples do not produce milk, and therefore he cannot feed the baby.

So I asked him: “If you had the choice to lactate to nurse your child, would you?”

His answer: “Of course!”

This is not Salma Hayek's baby. She. Is. Awesome.

Now, it’s easy for a guy to say this (and his wife was right there). We can say that we’d willingly lactate because we know we’ll never have to. Plus, I’ve heard that lactating isn’t necessarily a walk on the beach. I’m no breast expert, but I’m pretty sure women have to deal with leaky nipples, swollen breasts, and the curious stares of men who are hoping for the nursing bib to slip. I’m not going to Google it, but I’d be willing to bet there’s a porn site devoted to that.

That said, I’m curious how many men would lactate so they could serve a purpose to their baby. I know I would. See, men like to feel useful. We like to feel like we’re contributing. I bet many of us would gladly lactate for our children.

So let’s find out. I’ve created a poll below that any gender can answer. And yes, this is assuming that the couple is heterosexual, so just bare with me there. Also, if you don’t have a child, answer for your future self that does have a child. Planned or unplanned. This is also assuming that you breastfeed. (Lots of stipulations, I know, but otherwise the poll would have 20 different options.)

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As we all know by the rules of Highlander and Fringe, only one person of a given name can occupy the same space or the world will implode onto itself. No one wants that. It’s happened before on the blog, and we settled it with a haiku contest.

One of the Joshes proposed a list of challenges to determine who is the true Josh for the comments section. It included such gems as tiddly winks, dance off, bake off, longest drive contest (golf), shortest drive contest, hula hoop, and my favorite, acting interested in boring meetings.

However, this isn’t the “real world.” This is jameystegmaier.com, people! We’re not going decide things the way that Republican presidential candidates or Jersey Shore castmates do.

Thus, the Tournament of Josh.

The rules are simple: With the permission of Katie, mother of the lovely Charlotte (winner of the most recent Battle Royale of Cuteness), I sent each Josh the meme-ready friendly of Charlotte holding up a sign (the original sign said, “Be my Valentine”) and asked them to put their own words on the sign. I gave them no further guidelines other than to be considerate of the fact that Charlotte is a real, live little girl with a mother who reads this blog.

Specifically, I asked them each to create two signs. I’m not going to tell you whose is whose–I’d simply like you to vote on your favorite. Vote only once, and the poll closes on Sunday at 1:00 CST. Also, I’m going to do something tricky: I’m going to hide the votes until I post the winner on Sunday night. That way you can’t base your vote on what other people have voted.

These are HUGE stakes, people. The winner gains the right to use his given name in the comments section. The loser will never be allowed to use that name here again. May the odds be in your favor, Joshes.

(Also, if you think you can do better than these guys and you’d like to claim the name “Josh” for the comments section–even if your name isn’t Josh–the rules of the blog clearly state that an existing commenter must accept the challenge.)

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Congratulations to Kendall and the many, many witnesses to her awkwardness. Thanks for all of the stories. I think my favorite line still comes from Kendall herself: “Would a popular kid wear a Christmas shawl for a week before learning from her sister that it was in fact a tree skirt?”

Point taken, Kendall.

Decidedly unawkward is Kendall’s insistence that I donate the full $50 to the charity of her choice. Kendall explains this in her message below:

Thanks to all who voted me awkward – friends, family, coworkers, and virtual acquaintances. I appreciate the win and tip my hat to Sarah, a seriously awkward and worthy competitor. It was a well-fought battle but I’m glad I wound up on top.

Thankfully, it was for a good cause. Since I serve as the Executive Director of the Virginia Association of Soil & Water Conservation Districts (VASWCD), a worthy little charity that does big things, there was no hesitation what charity the winning proceeds – all $50 – would go. A little about my charity:

Our Foundation is committed to establishing and administering educational opportunities to citizens of Virginia to become good stewards of our environment and natural resources. We work with land owners and farmers, sponsor conservation workshops, and educate the next generation through hands on programs like Youth Conservation Camp and the Dominion Envirothon Natural Resources Competition.

You can learn more about our work at www.vaswcd.org or on Facebook.

The check is in the mail, Kendall. Thank you for being ridiculously awkward.

To Sarah, the runner up who fought valiantly through the entire competition, I don’t want you to go home empty handed, so I’d like to give you an exclusive advance reader copy of my publishing company’s latest novel, Slant of Light by Steve Wiegenstein. Thank you for being so incredibly awkward.

Last, as a little bonus, I thought it might be fun to have one last awkwardness poll for the innocent–but awkward–bystanders who upstaged the real contestants in a few of the photos. This is just for fun. Thank you all for making this last month on the blog so much fun! Feel free to stick around–I write every day!

Caitlin's brother

John's dad

Trevor's sister

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After a grueling three-week gauntlet of escalating awkwardness, Kendall and Sarah have made it to the finale. Each have a portfolio of awkwardness that started with a simple photo and description (Kendall and Sarah), expanded to before and after photos for comparison (Kendall and Sarah), and finally included an extremely awkward anecdote from each contestant (Kendall and Sarah).

For the finale, I asked each to state their case for why they should be awarded the crown as Most Awkward Person (MAP) and include an as-yet-unseen photo to support their case. The polls will close on Thursday at noon (CST), and that night I’ll announce the winner.

Before we get to the photos and closing arguments, I want to thank everyone who participated in the Tournament of Awkwardness. You’re all great sports for doing this, and I love that you can look back at your awkward selves and laugh.

Voters, remember:

• You can only vote once
• You may campaign for people to vote (but encourage them to vote for the most awkward person, not necessarily you)
• Judge their awkwardness not only by their photos, but also by their stories
• Polls close at 12:00 pm CST this THURSDAY

Kendall (left)

True awkwardness goes beyond the endearing “bathrobe to school wearing weird girl wackiness” that Sarah has so deftly displayed throughout this contest. It’s so much more. Real awkwardness comes from within. That’s what I bring to this contest. That’s why I should win.

Look at this new picture. Years before I became an awkward disco ball wearing, flag twirling member of the color guard, there was this incident. Look at my face, the Technicolor sweater, the arms crossed, the slouch of the shoulders. My date beams at the camera but I can do no better than this. It’s almost as if I know this picture will someday be on the internet to be voted on and discussed by a group of mostly strangers for a prize of $50 (all of which—my portion included—will be going to charity). A prize that I desperately want to win. No, need to win. And what if I were to tell you that mere hours after this picture was taken, this boy tried to kiss me on the bus, and I, in all my awkward glory instead of embracing his affection ran from him and off the bus entirely. Well that’s what happened. And it wasn’t even my stop.

If that’s not awkward, what is?

Sarah looks almost excited to be wearing a crazy outfit to school in that famous picture. Proud. That’s not awkward. This is awkward. I, dear readers, am awkward. Vote for me.

Sarah

Age 0: I was born as the youngest kid in a big family. At birth, I choked on amniotic fluid and had no oxygen to my brain for over 5 minutes. The doctors told my parents that I’d be profoundly neurologically impaired. Naturally, my parents passed this news along to the family. For the first 6 years of my life, whenever I messed up, my sisters would tell me gently, lovingly, and matter-of-factly, “It’s because you’re brain damaged, Sarah.”
Age 7: The Haircut. The Shirt. Let me emphasize this: A professional photographer attempted to crop me out of my own school picture. Ironically, like some sort of Sophie’s Choice, by showing less of The Haircut he only managed to show more of The Shirt.
Age 8: If memory serves, this was the year of the hand-me-down underwear.
Age 9: Profound crippling shyness takes hold. On the bright side, I’m beginning to grow into The Shirt.
Age 10: I accidentally threw up on my classmate Michael Morris’ spelling book in the middle of a lesson. Projectile. Because I panicked when Mr. Currie called on me to answer a question out loud. Then I thought if I just acted casual, no one would notice it had happened.
Age 11: Stopped wearing home-made clothes…in favor of Yard Sale clothes. This is tricky in a town of less than 3000 people. “Hey Joyce, remember those pants you got rid of because they had a huge rip in the booty? Well, this is the way cooler version of them patched haphazardly with green canvas from an army surplus sleeping bag! I bet you wish you’d never given them up now that you see how awesome they can really look.”
Age 12: In an attempt to impress the ultra-popular Greg Baca, I ran into the empty boy’s bathroom on a dare. He promptly locked me in alone and left me there to die.
Age 13: The Red Bathrobe Incident.
Age 14-15: Will I meet cool friends if I join the Marching Band? No. It turns out that’s counter-productive.
Age 16: This is getting ridiculous. I can’t possibly still be this tragic, can I? My friend Jamie sets me up for prom with her boyfriend’s leftover younger brother. He looks like the kid from Mad Magazine. His facial expression in the prom picture says, “Why is that car speeding toward me with its bright headlights on?” My body language says, “Must control my panic over the fact that a male is touching my arm. Must not repeat the Michael Morris spelling book barf debacle.”
Age 17: My yearbook photo shows me posed holding my flute. Soon thereafter, “American Pie” got released in theaters.
Age 18: Buzz cut mullet. Compensatory heavy make-up applied like spackle. The Taco Bell of a conservative Arizona town hires me for the summer, because every Taco Bell needs a a girl who looks strikingly like a transvestite working the cash register during the dinner rush.
Age Now: It’s all still there, lurking beneath the surface. Most mornings when I wake up, my hair looks like a tiny squirrel has nested in it while I was sleeping (see photo). Most days, I have to curb my strange urge to wear highwater sweatpants in public.

It’s glaringly obvious that by comparison, the worst day of Kendall’s entire childhood would have been a relatively well-groomed success in mine. Vote for true enduring awkwardness. Vote for Sarah.

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• You can only vote once
• You may campaign for people to vote (but encourage them to vote for the most awkward person, not necessarily you)
• Judge their awkwardness not only by their photo, but also by their story
• Polls close at 1:00 pm CST this THURSDAY

Sarah

Sarah's red bathrobe incident

Sarah says, “This picture [right] was taken at 7:30am before I went to school on the last day of 8th grade. Despite the fact that my orthodontist had recently offered me headgear, and despite wearing a training bra just for looks rather than by necessity, I believed my awkward days might be coming to a close. That belief was premature.

There had been an 8th grade class memo that “students should dress up for the last day of school.” It was only after classes started that day that I realized, suddenly, painfully, irreversibly, that when they said “dress up” they had meant “dress nicely.”

I spent the whole day wearing this; unable to go home and change because my parents weren’t there; unable to hide in the bathroom for fear someone would recognize the distinctive knee socks underneath the stall door. The Red Bathrobe Incident haunts me still. ”

Jess

Jess says, “Please accept this journal entry from 14 year old Jessica as proof of my long-term, sustainable awkwardness. It was pervasive, I assure you. I am extremely invested in this journal entry going public, because I think it’s hilarious.

Tonight I went to a movie: WITH BOYS! Okay so I go to the movie fifteen minutes early and no one was there yet (ERG! DAD!) Colin came first and he was like “I’m starving, wanna come to the food court with me?” HE got pizza and I had to sit there for like, forever, watching him eat. It was totally silent. I felt like such an idiot. When he was finished, we couldn’t find anyone else and the movie was starting. Colin’s cool but it was just him and me, and I was totally hyperventilating. He’s a lot shorter than me and I kept thinking people were staring. Anyway, then Pat and Hayden walked in and I scootched over so they could sit by Colin. Now I was sitting by Hayden. He was like “Omg did I take your seat?” and I was like “It’s fine!” and I was shaking. Levi and Nick finally came back, and Nick went to get a pop and Levi sat by me. They said that all the girls were going to Evolution instead, and I was like “WHAT!?” but I didn’t say anything. At that point, I had ripped my ticket into little shreds. LoL. Then we went to dinner and a lot of funny stuff happened. I sat by guys again, and I wasn’t nervous!!!! I know!!!! And then afterwards, it was like 10:30 and we were waiting for rides and I was like totally comfortable.”

Take Our Poll

• You can only vote once
• You may campaign for people to vote (but encourage them to vote for the most awkward person, not necessarily you)
• Judge their awkwardness not only by their photo, but also by their story
• Polls close at 1:00 pm CST this THURSDAY

Kendall

Kendall’s awkward story:

As awesome as this color guard uniform was, it came with a burden to bear. As I waited to run onto the field that first night, I saw that the bright lights of a Friday night football game were like an x-ray to white spandex stirrup pants. My polka dot underpants were shining through.

Surely, it was just because I was so close. No one else could see, right? I had no choice but to go on and find out. I was so distracted though that at a key point in the performance, I dropped my wooden rifle. Onto my face.

I learned from my mother later that night that distance did not hurt the x-ray effects. Apparently the whole stadium could see my polka dots too. Oh well. I hope they enjoyed the show.

The next day, my mother and I went to find white pants to wear underneath my uniform. I don’t know which is more awkward – showing a few thousand people your underwear while wearing a sequined jacket, or having to special order white spandex pants from a sporting goods store with your mother.

Caitlin (blue shirt)

Caitlin’s awkward story:

Braces, puberty, an epiphany (long hair makes me look like a girl!), and a hot Marine made a world of difference on the outside. I may not look as awkward, but I’m just as dorky now as I was back then.

It’s so hard to single out one instance of awkwardness that’s more embarrassing than any other. Everyone called me sir or handsome, I had no coordination or athletic ability whatsoever, and I developed a flair for the dramatic that made me the center of attention (never in a good way) throughout elementary school.

In sixth grade, the boy I had a mad crush on asked me to be his girlfriend. I didn’t get all stupid and giggly; I managed to keep my composure. I simply introduced him to Junior (the Cabbage Patch baby I’d spent the last few years raising as his love child) and began asking him typical grade-school sweetheart questions like “should we have our wedding indoors or out?” and “how many more children should we have?”. It took him approximately eight minutes to break down and admit the whole thing was a joke (I had my first mortal enemy that year and she was diabolical) and he never liked me. AT ALL. He asked the teacher to move his seat and he never spoke to me again. I continued to raise Junior on my own until high school, when my mom sold him at a yard sale. It’s all very tragic really. Kids can be so cruel.

Take Our Poll

• You can only vote once
• You may campaign for people to vote (but encourage them to vote for the most awkward person, not necessarily you)
• Judge their former awkwardness compared to their current non-awkwardness
• The winner of the tournament will receive $25 cash and $25 to give to their favorite charity
• Polls close at 1:00 pm CST this Sunday

Sarah (before)

Sarah (after)

Josh (before)

Josh (after)

Jess (before; overalls)

Jess (after)

Jess (before; science fair)

Jess (after)

Now, on to Round 2! Eight contestants remain in the hunt for the cash and the dubious distinction of being the most awkward.

Awkwardness is about much more than a single bad photo day. Awkwardness is an unwitting lifestyle choice: the clothes, the social naivete, the way you viewed the world.

A few clever commenters suggested that they see what the contestants look like now so they can use the comparison to gauge the relative degree of awkwardness–the before and after. After all, as far as my readers know, these people are still just as awkward as they were in middle school. Fortunately, all eight of the remaining contestants provided me with current photos, as well as awkward stories (which I’m saving for the next round).

A quick refresher on the basic rules before I move on to today’s two polls:

• You can only vote once
• You may campaign for people to vote (but encourage them to vote for the most awkward person, not necessarily you)
• Polls close at 1:00 pm CST this Sunday

Today’s matchups come from the first and second days of the tournament. Remember, you’re judging their former awkwardness compared to their current non-awkwardness.

Anna (before)

Anna (after)

Kendall (before)

Kendall (after)

Chelsea (before)

Chelsea (after; on the left)

Caitlin (before; blue shirt)

Caitlin (after)

]]> http://jameystegmaier.com/2012/02/tournament-of-awkwardness-elite-eight-part-1/feed/ 8 http://jameystegmaier.com/2012/02/all-in-the-family-the-last-3-polls-for-round-1/ http://jameystegmaier.com/2012/02/all-in-the-family-the-last-3-polls-for-round-1/#comments Thu, 16 Feb 2012 04:33:29 +0000 Jamey Stegmaier http://jameystegmaier.com/?p=5381 So, just for full disclosure, I realized today that I made a mistake. I accidentally left out a contestant who submitted on time. Also, you all are having too much fun poking at each other, and I want to get in on it. Thus I’m entering my photo in the contest. If, by a long shot, I win the contest, I’ll give the whole prize pot to a charity of the runner-up’s choice.

These are the final three polls for round one. Voting will continue until Sunday at 1:00 pm CST. Good luck being super awkward!

Josh

Josh says: “In my defense, I’ve always heard that the camera adds ten pounds of head/glasses weight. You should have just called this the Tournament of Josh.”

Katie

Katie says:

Cathy

My coworker, Cathy, is revolted by this photo from her younger years. I actually think she was kinda cute back in the day.

Jamey

Speaking of cute…here I am, world. Your daily dose of handsome, coming at you from 1995 with slickly parted hair, a t-shirt that I’d never grow into, and a classic pair of jean shorts.

Jess

Jess says: “It was incredibly difficult to pick just one given my young tendency to dress in my parents’ castoffs and the absolutely terrible glasses that I wore. I’d estimate that I’m about 8 in this photo wearing an old nightgown of my mother’s under my dad’s overalls.”

Jess

Jess is the science experiment on the left. She says: “I am struck by the amount of self confidence I must possess to send this onto the internet with no “after” picture. But I have to respect that this poor little nerd had no idea that she would someday grow up to be nerd in better clothes.”

Katie

Katie (Josh’s sister–see first poll of today) says: “Josh asked Mom to send him any awkward pictures of himself that he could submit for the contest.  In looking for his pictures she found pictures of me and suggested that I enter too because she thought I had him beat.  I’m not sure if I should be flattered by her confidence in me or offended that she thinks I’m so much more awkward than him (because Josh had a few suuuper awkward years).”

Trevor

That’s Trevor (T-Mac in the comment section) on the left and his sister on the right. I think she may beat the cat in John’s photo yesterday for Best Non-Contestant Creature in a Photo.

Chelsea

Chelsea says: “Sadly, this isn’t even the worst, but my mom wouldn’t let me use those photos. (They were that bad.)”

Laura

Laura says: “I don’t know what’s worse — my glasses or that my outfit looks like a really bad wallpaper pattern.”

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Caitlin

Caitlin (the one in the blue shirt) says: “When I was ten, I found out the digits “4T” on the tag of my jeans meant they were pants for toddlers, not capri pants for fourth graders. I was a beanpole with a bad haircut and buck teeth. I’m pretty sure this was my eleventh birthday. My little brother did his best to upstage me, but I always found a way to make a bigger ass of myself.”

Kelli

Chris (Kelli’s husband) says: “She was in 5th grade and I try to talk her into that haircut every time she goes to the salon. ”

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John

John is on the right. He says, “I’m not sure who is more awkward, me or my father.  I think the Velcro sneakers, the homemade vest, and the hat speak volumes.”

Sarah

Sarah has my favorite comment of all submissions:

“Overlook the shirt, which is (a) home-made, (b) buttoned wrong, and (c) printed with an island tropic pattern undoubtedly designed by someone on acid.

Overlook the weird scabbed buboes on my face, which (a) are from chicken pox, and (b) happened just in time for picture day.

Overlook the haircut, which (a) was ironically the only professional haircut of my childhood, and (b) was such an epic monument to badness that my family still refers to it as a definitive proper noun: The Haircut.

Overlook the fact that the photographer cropped the top of my head off; perhaps out of pity for the remainder of The Haircut.

Overlook the expression on my face, the only expression I made in pictures from 1988 – 1995, which says nothing if not “My level of embarrassment is causing me physical pain.”

Overlook all of that. But please don’t overlook the nice background, because it is the only redeeming part of this photo.”

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