Kevin Spacey

So I'm walking around London on Ufford St trying to get back to Blackfriars Rd when I come upon a man jiggling the handles of every car he's passing by. I stop and light a smoke (this was back when I smoked, but I can't remember when) and wait for him to notice that I'm watching him looking for an unlocked car that is obviously not his.

He doesn't notice me and passes within 2 feet of me. Finally, two cars down from me, he stops and looks back. It's an obviously inebriated Kevin Spacey. Not surprising, really, considering the Old Vic is somewhere around here. His head bobbing in the haze of whatever he was drinking (I'm no pro, but I think it was absinthe mixed with Jose Cuervo), he looks in my general direction, gestures to the current car he is trying to break into and mumbles something about his dog was in the car, so he needs to get her out.

I smile and nod politely then continue on my way. I hadn't taken more than 3 steps when I hear the smashing of a car window and turn to see Mr. Spacey frantically crawling through the newly opened window.

I DID IT!! I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!!!

I wait for a minute and smoke the rest of my cigarette. When it was clear that he wasn't going to accomplish much else inside the car, I crept over to the window and peered in. He was passed the fuck out, head in the backseat, feet resting on top of the steering wheel. There was no dog in sight.
I made it back to my hotel in one piece and American Beauty was available to rent.

London was nice. The food, not so much.

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?

Harrison Ford

On a beautiful Tuesday morning last summer I was heading into my local coffee shop and there in front of me on his way out was Harrison Ford.

Before I could even think, my hand shot up and in the blink of an eye his hand was up and connected with mine in the perfect high-five.

It sounded like a cannon slapping a face in the middle of a concert hall.

Boom. You're welcome.

Everyone in the coffee shop turned to look in awe. I bit back the tears because it hurt my hand like a sonovabitch.

And without a word, he was gone. 

My coffee tasted like shit, but it was a good day overall.

Elijah Wood

I've never been that much of a dancer, but sometimes when I've had enough to drink, my legs start doing whatever they want. Speaking of legs, I was walking through downtown Chicago one time and as I passed a bar, a man came flying through the window backwards and landed on the sidewalk in front of me. Elijah Wood jumped into the windowsill and yelled at the guy to never come back here again and something about how she's a beautiful woman and he doesn't know how to speak to a lady. I don't really know what else he said and I wasn't really paying attention because the guy in front of me had literally been kicked through the window for about 15 feet. I think that might be physically impossible, but it happened. I looked over at Elijah Wood and he gave me the head nod.

"Fuck yea, Elijah Wood."

"Fuck yea." He responded and ducked back into the bar.

Fuck yea.

Kate Blanchett

In June of 2006 I found myself part of a group of 20-year-olds hired by the DEA to convince drug users that alcohol was the safer way to go. My territory had about half a dozen bars and about 500 meth addicts. I was not assigned a gun but I carried one anyways and I kept my cash in my butt cheeks.
Around 9 pm after a spectacularly unsuccessful day I decided to pop into a karaoke bar for a beer.
Much to my surprise, there was Kate Blanchett. She was obviously 3 sheets to the wind and trying to buy a shot of Dalmore 64 Trinitas. Which is ridiculous. The bartender was getting agitated and I decided it was best to intervene before Kate Blanchett did something she regretted.
"Hey, Kate Blanchett." I gently touched her on the shoulder and she spun around so fast it was invisible to the naked eye.
"Who said my name?" Her eyes were glassy, but she was still as dangerous as a honey badger.
"It's about time you went home, Kate. Remember New Mexico?" She stood up straight and seemed instantly sober.
"You weren't even there." She snarled and I saw her fist begin to ball up.

"That's true, Kate Blanchett. But you were."

And in the blink of an eye, she was gone. I yanked a $20 out of my underwear and tossed it to the bartender. Before I could order anything he stuck it in his pocket and told me to get out.

Hugo Weaving

The summer of 2009 was anything but spectacular for me. Most of it had been spent shaving race horses at my aunt's ranch in South America. Grueling work and horrible conditions. Fantastic food though.
I was walking through the local market one day to pick up more oil for the girdle leathers when I saw Hugo Weaving sitting by himself outside a small shack, talking on his cell phone and smoking a cigarette. He noticed me at the same second I noticed him. I smiled and gave him the thumbs up. He made the 'finger-gun' and shot me. I told my aunt about it later and she didn't know who I was talking about. She did say that Keanu Reeves is 'one sexy dish'.

We don't even have cell reception in that part of South America.