So here's what happened: My tongue got stuck. Surprise! And it didn't get unstuck until I ripped it off and left a layer of taste buds right there on the ski lift handlebar. The consequence? I had a bloody mouth. Also, my mouth was numb for months. I couldn't taste a thing. Not even doughnuts.
And that's why you don't stick your tongue on a ski lift when you're riding up the mountain with my friend Gigi Ballif. Have I made myself clear, kids?
Meanwhile, here's something else you shouldn't have to explain to people: If you don't scrape the snow off your car windows, you can't see.
I know. It's been a relentless winter. Everywhere you look there's just snow, snow, snow. Snow coming out of our ears. Ear snow. And if you don't have a garage (which we don't), you have to leave yourself plenty of time to dig out and clear off your car whenever you want to go somewhere. It's so annoying.
If you don't scrape the ice and snow off your windows, you CANNOT SEE.
Listen to me. You are not a bat who can navigate your way down a street relying on your special bat sonar system. That's why you have eyes. So you can see. And you cannot see if you do not scrape off your windows.
I only mention this because in the past few days I have observed way too many people driving around our fair city with snow-covered windows. On Tuesday I was passed up by someone who must have been using an invisible periscope to see where he was going.
Which is stupid.
Every bit as stupid as getting your tongue stuck on a ski lift, right? But at least we can blame that little episode on the fact that I was in the eighth grade, which is when all your brains fall out of your head and onto the carpet where they roll around for a few years until you decide to pick them up and use them again.
A few other things that shouldn't have to be said when it comes to driving in the snow? Slow down. News flash! You are not Jeff Gordon. You are not Jimmie Johnson. This is not NASCAR.
And while you're at it, don't step on the gas to squeeze through that yellow light. You don't get a prize for making it through yellow lights. No one is waiting on the other side of the intersection to dump Gatorade all over you for winning the Yellow Light Super Bowl.
OK. I'll stop yelling. Although you should know I yell because I care.
About all of us!
Just … be safe, everyone.
Ann Cannon can be reached at email@example.com or facebook.com/anncannontrib.