Usually if you park outside a stranger’s house and peer into their windows, they might come out with a shotgun and threaten to shoot your eyeballs into the next block. If you park outside of my abuelita’s house, she’ll probably come out and turn the garden hose on you. If you park outside of my uncle’s house, he’ll probably be in the front yard watching TV on the porch and he will throw an empty Corona bottle at you. But if you park outside of Aaron Paul’s house and creepily look in his windows, he’ll see you, wave and then walk down three flights of ten million stairs to talk to you. (Seriously, Aaron Paul lives in a fucking Esher print.)
The McNeive clan of Ireland were doing some sort of star homes tour when the van pulled up in front of Aaron Paul’s house. Aaron saw them and came down to talk to them. Aaron told them that whenever he’s home when a van full of star watchers pulls up, he tries to get up close and personal with them. That’s nice of Aaron Paul and everything, but if I was the McNeives, I’d be so disappointed, because he didn’t call any of them a bitch and he didn’t try to sell them blue meth.