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Despite the bank account jammed with millions and millions of dollars, the staggering worldwide fame, and the constant security detail keeping crazies from trying to destabilize the state government with a well-placed stab-wound, the Governator's just a chain-restaurant-pizza-chomping guy like the rest of us! Who knew? Let's all get cracking on that "foreigners can be President" amendment and get one of our own into the White House.

Thursday, Feb. 3, 8:05 p.m.: I arrived at the Brentwood California Pizza Kitchen to pick up some tasty Original Chopped BBQ Chicken Salad. As I pulled into the annoyingly cramped, annoyingly valet-only parking garage and stopped where you normally do, several valets angrily directed me away from two enormous black SUVs parked at the bottom of the escalators. Exiting from the rear SUV was the Governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I rode up both escalators directly behind Arnold and three security guys, followed them into CPK, and watched while Arnold joined his wife and two children (presumably their children), who were already at a table smack in the middle of the restaurant. I didn't get to ask him why his appointees canceled the Cellphone Users' Bill of Rights, and I didn't get to see what they ordered. I have to say, he looked good: his suit cost two grand, his spray-on tan was evenly distributed, and every hair on his head was perfectly aligned. It was fun to walk around right behind him and see everyone — literally, everyone — do a take when they saw him. His Q rating in Brentwood Gardens is apparently 100%.

On the way out I tried to check the SUVs for participation in California's Hydrogen Highway, but the scowling mien of a fourth security man (apparently placed at the vehicles to keep away riffraff like me) scared me off. I kind of doubt it anyway.