Sure, I screwed your boyfriend and so he made me a snowman

The is Mr. Frosty-Jim. He was created for me by my friend, Jim, a few years ago.

Jim (not the frosty one) is an artist and his favorite material with which to work is Styrofoam. Jim creates all kinds of cool stuff with Styrofoam, then seals it with this super hard special paint that makes it like fiberglass and really-really-could-survive-Armageddon sturdy. You know those big-ass Christmas presents and ornaments you see in display windows at Macy's and theme parks? Jim makes those. And he builds sets for several theatre companies around town and has done some museum exhibits, like when we had the King Tut exhibit a while back, his company designed and built a series of sets that made you feel like you really were in a tomb in ancient Egypt. He is a mucho-talented dude.

So, how did Mr. Frosty-Jim come to live with us? Well, several Christmases ago I was seriously ill and in the hospital for a while and Jim called up the Guy in the Boxers to see how I was. GITB mentioned that he needed to get out the Christmas decorations and make the house all festive for me so that when I got home I would be all cheered up by it. He of course forgot that I am in charge of all holiday decorating and he would not do it correctly, but silly sentimental boy, he had good intentions. Anyway, GITB let slip that I collect snowmen. Jim said maybe he would carve me a cute little snowman if he had some scrap pieces left over from the project he was working on. GITB mentioned this to me in passing and I said" "Great! I'll add it to my collection." And I forgot about it.

A week or so later, I was home from the hospital and decided to pop over to my office to pick up my mail and check in when GITB called me on my cellphone. "Uh...honey, Jim is here with your snowman, he wants to know where you want it." I said: "Oh, just leave it on the dining room table and I'll find a place for it when I get home." Silence. A little more silence. Then GITB says: "Yeah, okay. You sure about that?" Well, yeah, I was sure. So imagine my surprise when I opened the front door an hour later to find Mr. Frosty-Jim smack in the middle of the dining room table, all five feet of him, his cute little top hat touching the ceiling.

I love Mr. Frosty-Jim and even though my friend Jim isn't around much anymore because his psycho Greek girlfriend is convinced that we have a thing (We so DO NOT have a thing, never have, never will, she is just a straight-up nut and a Mean Girl), it reminds me of how truly delightful it is when someone goes out of their way to do something special for you. When I called Jim to thank him, he said, "Hey, no problem. But never, ever tell Maria about it. She would fucking kill me."