This article is part of the SA Celebrity Stalker series.
Celebrities are just like us, appearing in public right before our prying peepers.
That's where our hungry-eyed star-spotters catch 'em unawares. Lights! Camera! Look!
Spotted PG on a park bench trying to combine several different sandwiches into one larger one. He was getting really frustrated at all the different fixings and yelling about needing more hands. Kinda cute!
When my seein' orbs got a whiff of Joaquin inside the Target in Burbank, I rushed into him-- literally. Then I delivered my hilarious "Hey! I'm Joaquin here!" line. Turns out it wasn't him. Sorry.
Spotted the dazzling thespian trying to fish her Manzana Watch out of a New York storm drain with a coat hanger. Nice to see a star unafraid to get her hands dirty!
William H. Macy
Unbelievable! William is currently completely encased in a block of solid ice while frantic stevedores rush to thaw him out with blow dryers. What a disaster!
Spotted Chan-chan Ta-tay shaving his chest on a bench in Griffith Park. He was very careful to suck up all the shavings with a small vacuum he had in his utility belt.
Saw K-Stew engaged in a heavy swapping sesh inside posh nightclub Yevin. Everything was on the table: coins, rare baseball cards and even a few antiques. Watch out! She's a haggler.
The beloved song-belter was seen trying to coax a very obstinate dog into a limo. Eventually her bodyguard got the dog in against its will. The dog didn't want to go, lady. So rude.
Caught a glimpse of the enigmatic Man of Steel star dropping a box office bomb behind a dumpster in an alley near Park Ave. He was texting somebody the whole time, and even snapped a selfie.
The AARP rocker is currently jamming at the Chuck-E-Cheese on Hollywood Blvd alongside Jasper T. Jowls, who is clearly not into it and paying no attention to the showboating rock legend. Daddy no like!
The rugged madman was violently humming the National Anthem to himself whilst prowling Sunset. When I asked for an autograph, he choked me unconscious. Very gentle hands and soothing voice.
Philip Seymour Hoffman
Oscar's other perennial Golden Boy was dragging lots of chains down Santa Monica Boulevard and screaming "unbind me!" into a cell phone. Completely ignored my requests for an autograph, as if he couldn't even see me.
Singing-dancing theatre man had no songs to sing after eating too many bowls of five-alarm chili at my backyard cookout. I'm not sure why he was there. I don't know any famous people. I'm a fireman in rural Arkansas. None of this makes any sense to me.
We might find we have more in common than we think if we just stop fighting long enough to combine our bodies into a singular organism.
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