“I appreciate the concern, I just wish the press wouldn’t harbor on it as I think it’s very unhealthy for young girls to read about and pay attention to. To my female fans: Just be happy and secure with yourself and don’t let other people’s perceptions of you dictate the way you live your life.” -Mischa Barton.

It is just us, or hasn’t Mischa Barton always been skinny? Sure, the girl took a few bad pictures with visible cellulite, but hasn’t Google educated us that cellulite can be genetic? Whatever. So here are some pictures of the “newly skinny” Mischa Barton.

Oh, and to all you media outlets, stop talking about her weight already, it’s unbearable how much time is devoted to Mischa’s weight. I mean, we talk about her more than Jessica Simpson or Lindsay Lohan. It’s just getting ridiculous.

Image via MischaBarton.Celebuzz.com

Image via MischaBarton.Celebuzz.com

Image via MischaBarton.Celebuzz.com

“YOOOO WHY WON’T YOU LET ME BE GREAT!!! I HAD THE TWO GREATEST DAYS OF MY LIFE AND WHEN I GET BACK FROM THE LOUIE SHOW I READ SOME SHIT CLAIMING I SAID I’M DOWN TO DO PORN AND SOME BISEXUAL PORN!!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE THE AVN WOULD POST FIRST PEOPLE BELIEVED THE TWITTER/STEVEN COLBERT THING, ROLLING STONE EVEN PRINTED IT!!!! NOW SOMEBODY HAS BEEN HACKING INTO MY MYSPACE AND SOMEBODY’S ACTUALLY HACKED INTO MY PERSONAL GMAIL ACCOUNT AND HAS BEEN EMAILING PEOPLE FROM IT… HEY WORLD I NO LONGER HAVE A GMAIL! I FOUND OUT I HAD TWELVE UNAUTHORIZED SKYPE ACCOUNTS UNDER MY NAME!!! THIS ALL IN THE PAST FOUR DAYS. WELCOME TO KANYE WEST WORLD! …. IT’S NOT OFFICIAL. I JUST GAVE THE PERFORMANCE OF MY LIFETIME FOR OUR NEW PRESIDENT … THEN I FLEW TO PARIS AND THEY DEBUTED MY NEW SHOES THAT I DESIGNED WITH LOUIE VUITTON WHICH WAS A DREAM COME TRUE. PLEASE I BEG YOU, GIVE ME A BREAK!!!!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET ME BE GREAT!!! WHO HAVE I HURT SO BAD THAT THEY WANT TO DESTROY ME? WHO HAVE I EVER SPOKE ABOUT SO NEGATIVELY? I JUST WAS SPEAKING WITH OUR NEW PRESIDENT TWO DAYS AGO… AND NOW THIS…. SIDEBAR… NEVER TAKE A PICTURE FROM MY OBAMA PERFORMANCE AND PUT IT NEXT TO A BS QUOTE LIKE THAT! THAT’S IN POOR TASTE! THAT UNDERMINES WHAT MY CONTRIBUTION TO THAT EVENT WAS AND SLAPS EVERYBODY WHO FELT UPLIFTED BY THAT PERFORMANCE IN THE FACE! A PICTURE SAYS A THOUSAND WORDS… LOOK HOW FRESH MY SUIT IS… NUFF SAID!”

Yes. It is safe to say that he is upset, in fact, he even claims that these rumors will “destroy” him. For those of you who need a greater sense of context, or a greater appreciation for how great this quote is, please refer to the image below…the source of inspiration…

Image via KanyeUniverseCity.com

You know what? Maybe Kanye does have a point. That suit is pretty fresh.

I’m sitting here, on my blue, Ikea loveseat, completely powerless. Writing is usually something that comes easily, but right now I’m questioning why anyone ever has ever decided to pay me for it…no offense to any past employers.

Writing isn’t just a hobby for me. It’s a passion, a way of life, and a way to make some scrilla…look that up on Urban Dictionary.

It’s 1 AM, and my laptop screen is a blank, useless, wasted canvas. It is times like these that make me wish I was a literary Jackson Pollock, colorful words dripping from my fingertips, decorating the page with inspired ideas. But instead I sit here, watching one of the lesser entertaining episodes of Californication; one that I’ve already seen before, at that.

“Where can I get some inspiration?” I ask myself as I mentally scramble to grasp on to any idea that could pour a little gasoline on the fire. But at this point my brain is so frustrated that I can’t find anything even slightly incendiary, so I tried finding it in a bag of cheddar Sun Chips. Didn’t work. But now my boyfriend is playing with my hair and I think I’m making some progress. If hair follicle stimulation doesn’t encourage synapse-activity, I don’t know what possibly could.

All I know for certain is that I suck and that my writing ability in no way reflects the fact that I have a degree in journalism…or even that I am even college educated.

“Why is this so difficult,” I ask the gods of writing. It’s not like I’m trying to bust out a Pulitzer Prize winning expose here, a 500 word movie review would suffice…as long as it’s intelligible. But even still, nothing is in my mind but the maniacal taunting of depraved clowns, mocking me for my inability to produce content.

As difficult as it is to say, I’m just going to have to accept the fact that tonight I have failed all attempts at providing the world with delicate prose flavored with subtle nuances of life, emotion and the human experience. Yet, tomorrow is a new day, and a new chance to delve into my mind and try to wrestle out a meaningful article from the tangles of my thoughts.

All I can do is hope for the best.

Writer's block, illuminated.

Welcome to THE POP FIX.

I know that you’re probably thinking that this site has had more facelifts than Joan Rivers. But that’s not true…we’ve had more facelifts than Joan Rivers, Melissa Rivers, and Janice Dickinson combined.

Although this may be the sad truth, let’s not forget where we are. This is LA and the only thing worse than going out of style is looking like it. So here is our new and improved site. It’s bigger, it’s better, and it’s staffed with the juiciest of hand-picked pop culture enthusiasts who are waiting to supply you with your next fix.

If it’s pop culture you crave, you’ve come to the right place.

So, thank you for coming back to visit us, and keep checking back for your latest fix.

Love,
THE POP FIX

P.S. What’s your fix?

After all the public fights, near drug overdoses, and rare conjugal visits, one might ask, “What keeps them together?” I can’t shed much light on the subject, but I do know that the beauty of their relationship is that they’ve seen one another at their absolute worst, and still love each other. While many relationships are shrouded in mystery, deception, and lies, Blake and Amy made a “for better or worse” commitment to each other on their first date to crack-alley. Oh, young love!

(image via RollingStone.com)

Blake and Amy have something that very few of us will ever share in a relationship. And, no, I’m not talking about needles, crack-pipes or hallucinations. This drugged-out duo shares an existence on another plane of reality that members of sober society can never hope to understand. How many people on this earth are familiar with the euphoria of snorting Absinthe and Adderall? How many times have you thrown a bottle of wine at your boyfriend when your argument about which drug dealer to call got a little heated? How often do you wake up to find your girlfriend, who recently lost control of her bodily functions, sleeping on the bathroom floor? Until we familiarize ourselves with these experiences, how can we hope to ever understand Blake and Amy’s relationship? I’m not even going to try, the task is too daunting.

When it comes to Blake and Amy, we have to remember that love is similar to a powerful drug. The highs are strong and addicting. Coming down is the worst feeling in the world, and withdrawals are miserable. But unlike drugs, love is the only overdose I’d like to see Blake and Amy experience.

My frozen snot gushed out of my nostrils like a Mountain Dew slurpee filling a 16oz. 7-11 cup. As I looked at my hands I realized that the purple color was not from gloves, rather, my leathery, semi-frostbitten hands. I felt that my chicken legs were shaking so fiercely I knew I just had to look like a rooster flapping its wings during mating season. It was the worst weather I’ve experienced at any time of my life (I’m from Colorado, mind you) and I knew I was going to be sick. Sure, the city was perfectly picturesque, like one of those montages you see in paintings, or described in manuals or seen on the History Channel, but the bloody cold ruined everything for me.

Before I left on this excursion, my friend had offered me three tablets of Airborne, the pill that turns water into a magical elixir preventing any cold, anytime, anywhere.

Yes, I’ve taken Airborne before. I actually bought several bottles in the past years and have consumed these tablets at every “first sign of cold or flu symptoms.” But they never worked for me. I always got sick after religiously downing this fizzy, grapefruit flavored “remedy.” All of my friends told me that they never got sick after taking Airborne, and that it really did work. I guess I was the only one who didn’t think some flavorful chalk wrapped in a tube worked…until recently.

It’s funny, because earlier this month, Airborne was sued for scamming customers into believing that the “drug” was actually a “drug.” They were sued specifically for falsely advertising and by stating that the tablets were “clinically tested.”

On a “Good Morning America” drugstore investigation, it was exposed that Airborne was no more than just vitamins. The “school teacher” that we read about on every box of Airborne who created the tablet, Victoria Knight-McDowell, finally admitted that the pill is not a cold remedy.

“I would never sit here and tell you that it’s a cure for the common cold,” she said to Good Morning. “We don’t know if Airborne is a … cure for the common cold. What Airborne does is it helps your body build a healthy immune system. When you have a healthy immune system, then it allows your body, on its own, to fight off germs.”

More so, when they said it was “clinically tested” it was literally tested by two individuals.

The statement made by this school teacher is way different from what it says on the box and in ad testimonials where it’s supposed to get rid of most colds in an hour and how it is a “miracle cold buster.”

Airborne eventually lost the lawsuit and is now refunding any customer who was swindled into purchasing the chalk-tablets.

I suppose when my peers and friends told me that this tablet really “does work” they were experiencing the placebo effect, a phenomena that occurs when one believes something so much they trick their body and brains into experiencing it, which blows my mind. At this point, I’m so impressed by the placebo effect, I’m thinking of creating multi-million dollar concoctions of my own. How about concentration tablets guaranteeing a perfect LSAT score made from Skittles? Or face wash made from Tide detergent? How about an invisible condom (If I believe that I won’t get pregnant so much, I won’t get pregnant!)

If you’ve been personally duped into purchasing Airborne, go here for a settlement.

For more information on the settlement, check this site out.
As for me, I’ll stick with my own traditional remedies–a bottle of Scotch and Whiskey always does the trick.

We knew that creating an acceptable (and more importantly, edible) dish might be a challenge but we headed off to Whole Foods where we encountered obstacle one.

OBSTACLE ONE: Savory Seduction.

Although we were armed with credit cards and optimism, navigating Whole Foods proved to be a Magellan-worthy challenge. Dangerous distractions in the form of cheese and pita bread samples lurked around every corner. In a matter of minutes the task at hand wasn’t quite dead, but it was certainly on life support. Our honorable appetizer intentions completely fell off the radar when we encountered the aisle of oils. The allure of the shiny, little bottles of black truffle oil, and Napa Valley pear vinegar was more than we could handle. Considering the fact that all girls love pretty things that are overpriced, and contain the word “truffle,” we knew that our cause was not looking good. How would we ever escape this place alive?

Did we succumb to the truffle oil seduction? Yes. But after 15 minutes, we gathered the strength to carry on.

OBSTACLE TWO: What to Make?

With a newly revived focus, and a burst of energy from the Gouda samples, we were ready to shop for ingredients. The fact that we didn’t know what they were going to be yet presented a slight problem. But this issue was resolved in the produce section. Inspired by the fresh fruits and vegetables, my friend suggested we make stuffed tomatoes wrapped in prosciutto. It sounded delicious, clever, and hard to mess up. Perfect.

After we found our ingredients, I’m proud to say we made it out of Whole Foods alive.

OBSTACLE THREE: Navigating the Kitchen.

(I’m going to take an extended pause from my story right now to increase your understanding of the following paragraph. I know that most of you in your early twenties are probably thinking, “What is this thing you call ‘the kitchen?’” Allow me to explain. You know that place where you store your Coors Light and Doritos? Believe it or not, it can actually be used for various food preparation activities including: washing, chopping, mixing and heating.)

When we arrived at our final destination, the kitchen, we had the ominous task of making stuffed tomatoes that looked presentable. While I lack talent in the cooking department, luckily my cohort is a creative visionary. She decided we should half the tomatoes, remove the innards, fill the shells with goat cheese, wrap them in a fold of prosciutto, secure them with toothpicks, and brush the tops of each masterpiece with a basil-olive oil concoction that she would blend in her mini, pink Cuisinart. I must admit I was impressed by her ambition, but I had my doubts. Would we be able to pull this off?

Time was of the essence, and considering our long Whole Foods distraction, we didn’t have a second to waste. With stealth we chopped, we squeezed, we filled, we wrapped, we impaled, we brushed, and finally we finished.

It was a long, arduous journey. There were times when I didn’t think we could do it. There were times when I wanted to give up. But we persevered and ended up with delicious appetizers that didn’t come out of a box encrusted with freezer burn. We were both satisfied with the final product, and I’m proud to report that these appetizers were a hit among the other Easter guests. Martha Stewart would be proud.

In the words of Rachel Ray… “Delish!”