Humpday Roundup: Cory Monteith and Taylor Swift — Are They or Aren’t They?

For many, Humpday signifies the middle of the workweek, when we’re exactly halfway between the memories (and mistakes) we made last weekend and the ones we’ll make next. But here at Celebuzz, Humpday means that Colin Goldman, our resident Celebrity Hookup Enthusiast (who actually knows next to nothing about legit celebrity love news) sets his mind to wondering — Are They or Aren’t They?

Today’s edition of Humpday Roundup salutes CELEBRITY FAIL!  Those awkwardly staged, awkwardly posed, or just plain awkward celebrity pairings brought to us by public relations experts and, in one case, just a couple too many Long Island Iced Teas.

Mystery Girl Bieber

He, the mussy-haired miniature Romeo in black jeans.  She, the…hmm, nobody seems to know who she is.  But Justin Bieber himself, the prized poodle of preteen pop was spotted heading to a Boston Market (ooh, romantic) with this unnamed Mystery Girl and rumors have been flying ever since.  Obviously, there’s a good explanation to this paparazzi’d pair sashaying down the streets of New York City.  And, just as obviously, who cares about good explanations when innuendo is so cheaply available.  I think we may be looking at the girl who steals Baby Biebers most precious git of all — his Justinity.  Just saying, it could happen.  I can draw you pictures if you like.  Remember, it’s always the innocent ones with the “gosh, golly, gee” smiles who you’ve got to look out for.  Player.

Verdict:  These two are not doing it.  But, a PG-13 movie is not out of the question.


Lindsay Balance

99 bottles of beer on the wall.  99 bottles of beer.  Lindsay takes one down, falls to the ground.  98 bottles of beer on the wall.

The Lindsay Lohan drunken stumble is like the icing on the alcoholic cake.  It’s like Miley Cyrus missing notes.  It’s a nightly standard.  Still, when Lindsay starts face-planting into the shrubbery outside her favorite cocktail establishments, it’s worth examining her…love life!  At one time, Lindsay and Balance were an inseparable pair.  Teen-Lindsay could glug-glug-glug the Grey Goose and practically strut a 3am tight rope high wire through paparazzi and angry club owners waiving unpaid bar bills.  However, since SamRo started snatching cookies from Lindsay’s cookie jar, it’s as if Lindsay told Balance to take a hike.  Lindsay’s been stumbling, bumbling, and fumbling her way along sidewalks ever since.  

Verdict:  It’s over between Lindsay and Balance.  The once lightly paired couple are, now, inexorably separated.  Bloody noses should ensue shortly.


These two schnooklepusses have been on Humpday Roundup before.  Back around the time of the last rumored coupling, I told you they weren’t doing it, but nobody believed me.  If there’s one thing Taylor Swift is good at — no, not singing — it’s arranging her public relation chips like a chess master, perfectly played to build the icon that is T.Swift.  And Cory Monteith, sweet kid, but the Fox machine is gearing up for the second potentially even bigger season of Glee and they want the pub.  So, now the two are bowling in a regular old bowling alley, on a date, and, whoa, who called the photographers?  When I started Humpday Roundup, I made a commitment to readers to remain honest, also, yes, crass and clueless.  Don’t fall for these tricks of the trade.  Taylor Swift and Cory Monteith are not really dating.  They’re not really macking.  And they’re definitely not doing it.

Verdict:  Shame on your public relations people for unnecessarily making Cory Monteith mad crushing fanatics like Traci cry their eyes out. 


Mutual Likes:  Tatts, Swinging, and The Third Reich.

Like a match made in Heaven, or Hell, or that place in between that just has to be chock full of dolts like Michelle “Bombshell” McGee and garage-meister, Jesse James waiting their turn for the downstairs escalator.  Sure, everybody has their own definition of love, but one that you may wish to borrow is that if the monied married dude you’re spelunking won’t shell out the cash for the strip club you’ve dreamed of owning since you final year in school, a.k.a., the second grade, alert the presses as to your unholy, White Power-induced lewd couplings and rake him through the coals.  Who says romance is dead?

Verdict:  Yeah, they were, probably not any more, but probably will again, once he buys that darn strip club.  Jesse!