My grandmothers spent most of my childhood depressed, either having voluntary house arrests or spending entire visits at my house weeding our garden against our parents' wishes. I'm not saying I didn't love them because of their contribution to the family's neuroses, I'm just saying that I missed out on having one of those fun, kooky grandmothers that people sometimes brag about. The craziest thing my maternal grandmother ever did was buy Christmas presents for the cat, and that's pretty tame in the grand scheme of things. (Seriously, she had so many opportunities to crank it up!)
Luckily for me, there's Carol Channing:
Can you imagine what it'd be like to be her actual grandchild? It'd be giggles and peanuts and sequins all fucking day long. And don't forget the dancin'!