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"This is where I get off."

I know it might seem like I sit at home all day long, drinking beer and updating The Blarg, but the truth is I spend much of my day writing.

Lately, most of my writing has been on long-form projects. Because of this, I sometimes write a short (most times comedic, other times not so much) to break up the monotony of those longer projects. But while these shorts are fun to write as an exercise, nobody ever really gets to read them.

To remedy this, I’ve decided to share them here. I’m doing this for two reasons:

1. I like to share! That, and it’s better than having them sit on my computer.

2. It’s my hope that someone might be inspired to actually do something creative with them. Want to film one as a short? Awesome. Interested in animating one? Go for it. Feel like performing one live onstage? I dare you. All I ask is that you give me credit where it’s due, and (if possible) send me a copy of the final product.

The nineteenth of Shady’s Shorts is called “This Is Where I Get Off.” Unlike all of the previous shorts, this one is not a comedy. It’s a dramatic short, and based on something that really happened once.

Download it by clicking below.


Number eighteen,


“This Is Where I Get Off” is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Created by Justin Shady, ©2015.
Creative Commons License

…which is really just to say that I’ve recently been attempting to confront a crippling fear of heights that I’ve had ever since I was a kid.

When we were in New York in July, I began confronting this fear by walking across the Brooklyn Bridge with my good friend Ciappa.

The Brooklyn Bridge! With me!

I’m not big on bridges—driving across them or otherwise—and the old me never would’ve walked across one. Still, while intimidating at first, the Brooklyn Bridge proved to be an easy first step. The walkway is both above traffic and right down the middle of the bridge, which meant I wouldn’t have to be pressed up against a railing while cars and trucks whizzed past me at 90 miles per hour.

Not that I can blame them. When driving across a bridge, I also haul ass from one side to the other. Of course, I don’t do it to get to my destination quicker, but rather to get the hell off the bridge as fast as humanly possible.

This happens most often on our trips to San Francisco. I’ve driven across both the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge many times before, and each and every time my heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and my foot is pressing the gas pedal through the floorboards.

And so, obviously, even though we go to San Francisco often, I’ve never had a desire to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I’ve had the desire, I’ve just never had the balls. KB actually ran across the bridge during an early morning half-marathon last year; I slept in and then met her at the finish line hours later. I won that race, if you ask me. In more ways than one.

Still, as I stated above, lately I’ve been trying to step outside of my comfort zone. And so, when we met up with our good friends Bill and Sarah in San Francisco a few weeks ago, and KB and Sarah mentioned walking across the bridge, I decided, “Fuck it. I’ll join them… at least until I can’t anymore.”

Shaking, terrified, and full of brewing barf, I made it to the first (south) tower!

The Golden Gate Bridge!

Here’s an upward shot that I took without stopping or looking at my phone!

Shot by me!

I did stop midspan, however, to take this shot of me with KB and Sarah… if only to prove that I actually fucking did it.

From the center of the bridge!

Here’s another shot of the same spot looking north!

No shit!

And one last shot of San Francisco between the railing and the cable!

I know, I couldn't believe it either!

I nailed that shit! Made it all the way across and back again (though I seriously asked KB and Sarah to walk back over, get the car, and come pick me up).

Next up on my bucket list of scary shit to overcome: flying alone.

Me! Flying alone! In a plane! High in the air!

Oh, shit! I did that, too!

Last week, our flights to Disney World were thrown a curveball when KB had to stick around an extra day for work. Rather than changing my flight and postponing my trip by a day as well (or chickening out and getting off the plane before it pulled back from the gate… seriously, that really happened once), I sucked it up and flew alone.

You have no idea how huge this is… except now, because I just told you so.

In the words of Martin Brundle (from the shittier-than-the-original The Fly II): “I’m getting… better.” Slowly.

One height at a time,


…we stopped into this amazing little deli called Deli Board, which is owned by Cleveland native Adam Mesnick.

What makes Deli Board so special? Well, first of all, their PICKLEZ ARE THICK! “How thick,” you ask? SO THICK.

For real. THAT thick.

Now, I’ve been laying off non-seafood meat for the past six months or so, but that didn’t stop me from ordering the Ron. Why? Because it’s my dad’s name. Guess who else’s dad’s name is Ron? That’s right, Adam Mesnick, who named the sandwich after his father.

I mean… how could I not?

THE RON! Named after both of our fathers! Or at least one of them.

Finally, Adam treated us to a sample of Deli Board’s tomato polenta soup with truffle cheese. Holy. Shit. Balls. The best, Jerry! The best!

I really don't like when people use "OMG" but, for reals... OMG.

So the next time you find yourself in San Francisco stop into Deli Board and say hello to Cleveland native Adam Mesnick, and be sure to tell him that you heard of him from Milwaukee native Justin Shady by way of his Los Angeles blog.

Oh, and try the food, too. Of course.

Learn more about Deli Board here.

Can’t wait to visit again,


…was a-pretty a-sweet!

Why? Because it had painted baby doll heads on one of the walls…

Painted baby doll heads...

…from floor to ceiling!

...from floor to ceiling!

It also had an enormous, vintage medical eye chart hanging up.

Creepy medical eye charts!

But the best part? Snake Eyes. With a sword. On a horse.

And Snake Eyes on a stallion, ready to charge into battle!

I fit right in,


Esquire TV: "Best Bars in America" with Sean Patton and Jay Larson

…tonight on Esquire TV as he co-hosts the one-hour special Best Bars in America with his buddy Jay Larson.

The concept? Sean and Jay hit up the best bars in Milwaukee, Chicago and San Francisco. I’m so jealous!

Check out a trailer for the special now, then tune in and watch the show tonight.

Getting thirsty just posting this,


…forwarded me this ad he found on Craigslist; it was posted by a guy who is looking to rent a room in San Francisco.

I wanted to share its genius with the world before it got deleted from Craigslist. Here it is unedited and in its entirety. Enjoy!

Konichiwa, bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I’m a 25-year-old professional marketing agent with experience at bad-ass companies like AOL and FORBES FUCKING MAGAZINE. That’s right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at the ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.

Anyway, so I landed this job with a marketing firm in San Francisco, and I have no fucking clue where to live. My new office is located in NoPa, so I guess I want something in that area. Honestly, I’m moving there in 3 weeks, so I don’t give a shit if I have to sleep in your bathtub.

A bit about me: I’m respectful, quiet, clean and I won’t bother any of your shit. If you leave shit out, I’m just like, “Oh fuck I better not mess with this shit, because it’s not mine.” I turn off lights. I clean toilets. Fuck it. I’ll even cook for you. That’s right! My dad is a chef and taught me everything there is to know about cooking southern cajun cuisine. I’ll fry green tomatoes, cover them with marinated crab meat and smother that shit in bearnaise. EVERY. GODDAMN. NIGHT. Don’t eat meat? That’s fucking FANTASTIC! I’ll make a zucchini and yellow squash carpaccio that will knock your fucking socks off.

I also read a lot. I fucking LOVE books. Vonnegut, Palahniuk, Hawthorne. All that shit. I read Tuesday’s with Morrie the other day. It’s a sad story, but I learned something about life, love, knowledge and the pursuit of something greater than myself. Fucking smart. Do you like movies? I fucking love them. We can watch the shit out of some movies together if you like, or go get drinks, or work out, hike, play video games or play a game of one-on-one basketball, or I don’t have to talk to you at all. It’s completely UP TO YOU!

Sometimes I play guitar. Are you going to love getting baked and listening to Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd? LIVE? WHENEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT? Of course you are! I’ll take requests and learn any song you like, because I have the voice of an angel and the acoustical stylings of James Fucking Taylor. AWWWWWW SHIT YEA!

A lot of people ask me, “Hey, you’re from Alabama. Are you racist?” And, the answer to that question is, no. I’m not racist or judgmental at all. I love everyone. I’m a secular humanist. I FUCKING LOVE PEOPLE. That’s the only requirement to being a secular humanist actually. You have to like other human beings and want to help them for no other reason than they are human regardless of race, religion or sexual preference. WTF?!!!? Pretty fucking cool right?

I own almost nothing! I’m driving my car from Alabama to California in which I’ll be transporting two duffelbags of clothes, one laptop computer, one guitar, one cell-phone with charger, 8 pairs of shoes, one picture frame, probably some condoms and a shitload of beef jerky and Pringles for the trip. Though, you can expect the jerky to be gone upon my arrival. Unless you’d like me to pick up some on my way into the city. See?! I’m the most considerate person you’ve ever met. I’m offering to buy you shit already!

Am I interested in your pad? You can bet my nomadic ass I am! I only require 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor to shelter me from the elements. Other than that, anything else will be considered a convenient plus. I’m taking being a roommate to the next level. Email me! I’ll hook yo ass up with Facebook links, background checks, credit reports, phone numbers, resumes, references, awards, sexual history, pictures of karate trophies and a list of the top 10 women I’d like to bang before I die. If you want a next-generation roommate who consistently blows your fucking mind with awesomeness, then hit me up. I’m ready to give you money.

I’d be that guy’s roommate in a heartbeat,


…hanging in Magnolia Pub & Brewery near Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco. (Click on the image for a larger version.)

I stared at the photo for awhile, inspecting each of the young faces in the audience. In doing so, I found my favorite part of the photo: this girl’s face near the front of the stage.

Love it.

She’s probably in her sixties by now,


…but not as much as Japanese tourists love taking their pictures with them.

Rock star dogs,


…and look who I spotted peeking out at me from behind a bookshelf:

It’s not easy being faded,


KB and I are heading up north for the weekend!

On our agenda:

1) Pixar!

2) The Walt Disney Family Museum!

3) Alcatraz!

Oh, and we’ll see our friends Sarah and Bill, too.

I won’t be updating “The Blarg” while we’re gone, but feel free to follow our adventure on Twitter and Twitpic if you don’t have anything better to do. You should have something better to do, but if you don’t be my guest.

Have a great Fourth of July, folks!



Old Poop!