Nicolas Cage

I was walking around Barnes and Nobles one day trying to discreetly add whiskey to my Starbucks coffee, when I heard a man in the next aisle talking very loudly on his cell phone. It wasn't very hard to recognize the voice as belonging to Nicolas Cage.
Keeping my cool I immediately dropped to my knees, clutching my alcoholic coffee to my chest so as to not spill any on the floor. If it spills on my shirt, I can suck it out, but I don't know where Barnes and Nobles' floor has been.
I pricked my ears to try and determine what direction he was facing so I could sneak past without him noticing me, but as fate would have it, Nicolas Cage was actively searching me out. I was fucked.
He stepped around the corner from the Teen Fiction section clicking his cell phone closed with one hand and adjusting his ridiculous leather jacket with the other.
"Hey, man, you're you." He was smiling. It was making my skin crawl. He took a step closer, I took a step back. I wondered to myself if I had put enough whiskey in my coffee as to make it flammable in a last ditch attempt to escape.
"Yeah, I am me. Thanks." I turned to leave but he was instantly 5 feet closer to me than he had been a moment before. I never saw his feet move.
"No no no. I mean, you're the guy that meets the famous people. That's awesome, man. And now you've met me! That's just rad, man. Rad."
"I'm pretty sure there's more than just me out there meeting famous people." I took the lid off my coffee cup.
"No, come on, I mean you're the guy who WRITES about it! That's so cool!"

"You understand how that makes you sound crazy, right?" I threw the coffee onto the ground in front of me and in one fluid motion whipped out a book of matches, lit one and tossed the whole book onto the puddle. The mixture was just right; we had ignition. A wall of flames erupted in between us. Nicolas Cage had his cell back to his ear and was screaming 'Help! Help!' That was my cue.
"Ghost Rider sucked dick and you're an asshole for making a sequel!" I jumped over the bookshelf and ran across the tops of the rest of them until I reached the front door.

I didn't stop running for a full hour.

I still feel kinda bad about burning down that Barnes and Nobles in wherever I was.

Ben Foster

So my wife and I decided to go downtown for a drink, which was a horrible choice by the way because apparently Sting is in town so there's nothing but douchebags out and about.

Anyways, she tells me she needs to run to the little girls room except how she said it wasn't cute or anything. She was gone for no more than a few seconds when I hear someone clearing their throat next to me. It wasn't a quick, normal throat clearing, but it was over and over, like they were obviously trying to get my attention. I look over and it's Ben Foster.

I accidentally said "Oh, shit." out loud, but only because he's scary, not famous.

"Hey, Nate. How's your night going?" He doesn't look at me when he says this, he just rubs his throat and then takes a sip of his beer.

It takes me a second to get the words 'pretty good' out, and the moment I do, he responds with 'that's good, man.'

Then he looks at me.

Super duper.

Then my wife came back from the restroom. When I turned to introduce her, he was gone.

She still doesn't believe me, but whatever. 

That guy is intense.

Ryan Gosling

So thanks to this website, a lot of famous people and celebrities have been seeking me out on their own in order to change how they might look or sound on the internet when I inevitably write about it*.

I was sitting near a Jamba Juice one day, not drinking Jamba Juice but reading a beer, I mean a newspaper, when Ryan Gosling comes sauntering up to me. Sauntering is a perfect word for how he walks. A better way to describe how he was walking would be to say 'Ryan Gosling was walking over to me when he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and then realized he was Ryan Gosling and his legs did too.'

Anyways. He's getting pretty close to me and I see him beginning to realize that he's here to talk to me, not to keep looking at his reflection, so I did the only thing I could do; I jumped up and ran like I was being chased. Ryan Gosling began to run after me and I could tell he wanted to yell something to me, but then probably remembered that he can't form his own opinions unless it's right after he became famous for The Notebook or if someone asks him about his abs or grinning.

I got away but my wife still talks about him and his movies or face or something.

This is the worst picture of Ryan Gosling I could find, and I bet people will fucking love it.

* Not true at all, but that would be pretty awesome, right?