A thousand “…..and I’m still single and can’t get a man” jokes were born over a year ago when a 20-something crazy-brained mess named Star Burton (born name: Afton Elaine Burton) told everyone that she was marrying evil incarnate Charles Manson. Well, the wedding isn’t going to happen, because the dark-sided demon found out that she just wants to get her hands on his body and not in the way that he wants. Star isn’t only a gold digger, she’s a corpse digger.

The New York Post says that journalist Daniel Simone discovered that Star and her friend Craig Hammond were scheming to get 80-year-old Charles Manson’s dead body. Star and Craig planned to put his corpse in a glass crypt and display it for the sick fucks and emo teens who’d pay to see it. They were hoping it would be California’s version of  Lenin’s Tomb. They were going to call it Manson Mania and hoped it would make them rich. Sadly, Star and Craig won’t be on an episode of Shark Tank where they’ll ask the sharks to invest $100,000 for 10% ownership in their American Horror Story-like business venture, because Charles Manson found out about their schemes.

Daniel Simone says that Star and Craig came up with the plan two years ago and asked Charles Manson to sign over their dead body to them. Charles Manson doesn’t think he’s going to die, but he played along anyway and kept them around because they brought him shit. When Star and Craig realized that Manson wasn’t going to give up the rights to his dead body, they went to plan b. Star planned to marry Charles Manson because as his wife she’d get control of his corpse when he finally dies. Star and Manson’s marriage license expired last week and even though she says they’re going to renew it, Daniel says that’s not going to happen:

“He’s finally realized that he’s been played for a fool. He feels he will never die. Therefore, he feels it’s a stupid idea to begin with. Manson never consented to the wedding in the first place and never will.”

If I was related to this Star mess, I’d be phewing like nobody has phew’d before. I mean, marrying a Satanic psychopath because you want to stuff his body and display it as a tourist attraction for money is insane, but it’s also entrepreneurial, and isn’t that what this country is about? But marrying Charles Manson because you love him is a type of crazy that hasn’t even been invented yet. I mean, bitch is still beyond crazy, but she’s not totally beyond crazy.

The last time we checked in on the recess drama happening between volunteer library assistant Taylor Swift and the kid who keeps getting caught pissing on the boy’s locker room floor DJ Diplo, he had abandonned his Cash 4 Tay Tay’s Ass fundraiser and had moved on to crying about how her fans were the meaniest meanies that ever lived and whispering about how she’s a strategic string-pulling puppet master. As far as everyone in the 6th grade was concerned, Diplo and Tay Tay were not on speaking terms.

However, last night he uploaded a picture of himself and Taylor St. Sunshine hanging out at a Grammy afterparty to Instagram, along with the caption “Then this happened @taylorswift vs taylor spliff #grammys2015“, which means they might not completely hate each other anymore. Because really, we all know that if two melodramatic tricks hated each other, that drink wouldn’t be used for drinking; it would be used for dumping as you hiss the words “YA FILTHY HOO-WER!” (and if you really hate them, you follow it all up by demanding they replace your drink).

But it looks like everything between Diplo and Taylor was civil. Then again, we don’t know what Taylor is doing with that straw. Sure, she could be sipping a rum and coke. But she could also be sneaking a mouthful of liquid laxative into his drink. Or maybe she’s taking a sip of his drink to see if was made with Diet Coke so she can hit him with a trademark infringement notice. “Yeah, I’m going to have to ask you to cease and desist on that drink…Diet Coke is sort of Taylor Swift’s thing.”

Pic: Instagram

Not pictured: The dozens of hos who passed out after Jane Fonda struck a “It’s cute how you youngins think you got this when I have and always will have it” pose. When Jane Fonda puts her hand on her hip, emergency rooms call in every nurse they have on staff, because they know they’re going to have to treat thousands of people who suffered a concussion after fainting from being exposed to her hotness.

Jane Fonda set fire to the Golden Globes last month with her body and charisma, and she decided to once again give the people heatstroke by bringing her hotness to the Grammys last night. Jane made every trick and tramp feel several layers of inadequate when she showed up in a Balmain jumpsuit. Sources (read: the sources in my head) tell me that Prince was planning to wear this exact jumpsuit to the Grammys last night, but when his crystal ball afro showed him the vision of Jane wearing it, he quickly changed into an inmate uniform from the Lisa Frank Penitentiary. Even Prince knows not to compete with Jane Fonda, bitch.

And thanks to Nicki Minaj, every time I read the name “Balmain” I think of the lyric: “He tossed my salad like his name Romaine/And when we done I make him buy me Balmain.” So yeah, I’m having a good time right now while picturing Jane Fonda and her freshly drenched b-hole shopping for Balmain with her man.

Pics: Wenn.com, Splash

I’m not sure what the inspiration behind Charli XCX’s Grammys outfit was, but I like to imagine that her stylist was going for ‘former Party Down employee who was fired for getting stoned and falling asleep on a pile of fur coats at a graduation party for Leonard Stiltskin’s daughter‘ sort of thing. She’s like the accidental hot tub baby of Roman and Bobbie St. Brown. She also kind of reminds me of a baby model from the baby formal wear page of a Sears catalog. You know, the one where all the babies look like tiny aspiring dinner theater magicians?

But if I have to be totally honest, that baby pink mink stole would have looked so much hotter paired with a floor-length crystal-studded Bob Mackie gown. Yes, I know that it’s no longer 1979 and not everyone can be Cher or Morgan Fairchild, but what ever happened to serving up show-stopping glitz n’ glamour at the Grammys? I understand that not everyone can handle the responsibility that comes along with walking the red carpet in some top-shelf crystal-covered eleganza, but at least they could try. It’s truly a dark day when only ONE person was brave enough to pull out all the stops (no, literally – there’s definitely a construction site missing its caution markers) and arrive working some old school beauty pageant glamour.

Here’s more of Charli XCX, as well as the rest of the dull, unpolished rhinestones that rolled down the Grammy red carpet last night, including an escort-looking Lady Gaga, Kelly Osbourne in Dame Edna drag, Katy Perry in Kelly Osbourne drag, and John Mayer making me completely ashamed to say I totally would:

Pics: Splash, Wenn.com

We really can’t trust anybody or anything in this world. Brian Williams is lying about rescuing puppies from a burning house, Anthem/Blue Cross got hacked and now Papa John’s delivery drivers are giving out the phone numbers of Australian lady rappers. Nobody can be trusted.

Because Iggy Azalea is the rillest and does all her own complaining to pizza chains instead of handing that duty over to an assistant, she spent a piece of her Grammy Sunday yelling at Papa John’s Twitter page. Papa John (not to be confused with Daddy John, which is John Travolta’s Scientology bathhouse nickname) did Iggy wrong and betrayed her trust forever when one of their drivers gave her phone number to his family member. The driver’s sister texted Iggy and claimed they were one of her biggest fans (side-eye for that), but that sister told a major lie, because her biggest fan would text with: Who dis? Who dis? I-G-G-Y?

Iggy is still spitting at Papa John today. Iggy wants to see a lineup of Papa John’s drivers so she can point the info leaker out and she is outraged over this security breach. She’s about to sue or destroy Papa John’s and she can easily do that by blasting her music in front of their store. All ten thousand of Iggy’s tweet slaps at Papa John are after the cut and I’m sure in 20 years students will be reading these same tweets in their world history app during class, because this is the most important war of the decade. I swear, watching Iggy yell at Papa John on Twitter is like watching a bratty sister yell at her bratty brother as he laughs and points at her like, “You mad!”

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CAKE! The cake always wins because it’s cake! But RiRi still worked the Barbie birthday cake look better than Lena Dunham.

RiRi has been wet humping the 90s like crazy recently, so I figured she was going to show up to the Grammys wearing Kelly and Brenda’s Spring Dance dress or high-heeled floral Docs with smiley face stickers barely covering her nipples and clit. RiRi probably wanted to wear the second outfit but farted on that idea after finding out that Miley Cyrus already wore it to the grocery store earlier in the day. So instead, RiRi showed up looking like the cake you begged your mother to buy you for your 7th birthday.

Giambattista Valli designed this dress but he can’t take all the credit for it. The original designer is the nana who crocheted a dolly toilet paper roll cover for the powder room in her front hallway. The original designers of this dress are also the little girls at a slumber party who made a tent in the living room using cushions and princess duvet covers.

RiRi sat in the front row during the show and I hiccuped up a bushel of laughs every time the camera panned by her monster shower puff dress. It swallowed up everything in its path. I bet after the show, one of her people had to pick her up and shake out all the stuff that got suck underneath her dress throughout the night. Out came the rest of Pharrell’s pants, the bird eggs that were in Igloo Australia’s braided hair nest, Katy Perry’s Grammy, the artistry that Kanye says Beck needs to respect and Prince.

Pics: Wenn.com, Splash