DONALDREES . COM

I hang out with a lot of performers. I guess it’s partly due to the fact that I am also frequently a performer. I ask a lot of these people to come see my shows and I always appreciate the support.

What I find fascinating are the amount of performers who plead with you to come see their shows but don’t actually go out to support others. They claim to be busy or doing something, but the truth is most of them are just lazy.

Take a look at the next event invite you get on Facebook and take a look at the replies from those who aren’t attending – you’ll probably find a massive list of pathetic excuses. Whether it’s for a show or a party, people love an audience but not being part of one.

Make a point of attending the next invitation you get. You won’t regret it.

It’s one of my favourite time’s of year!

I don’t know why I’m continuing my story. If you’re wondering what story I’m referring to, you’re obviously not a very dedicated follower of this website. Please take a look at the entry below before going any further. Believe me, you’ll want to know how it started before you find out how it ends.

So where was I?

Right, so my friend Jen was passed out in the dryer. By the way, I’ve given up on renaming people since it’s obvious you can all see through my elaborate attempts at name camouflage. Actually, you know what I’m going to do? Use nicknames. These are very special “pet” names only my friends know and you’ll never be able to guess who’s who.

Right, so my friends Miss. Drinks-a-lot was passed out in the dryer inhaling the fumes of fresh linen while I stared bug-eyed at my Facebook account. I’d somehow managed to invite nearly 400 people over to my condo for Halloween. Plus I’d promised an open bar AND a grand prize of a 3D television. All of this, to spite Miss. Drinks-a-lot.

I had no idea what I was going to do but I am anything if not resourceful (or is it I’m nothing if not resourceful) what I’m trying to say is I get shit done. I picked Miss. Drinks-a-lot up, wheel-barrowed her over to the elevator and immediately started getting ready for the party.

First things first. I convinced Captain Clean-Countertops to pick up a shift at work so he’d be out of the house the night of the party. I also stopped by the liquor store and bought some Alcool. For those of you who don’t know what Alcool is, it’s about 98% alcohol. It can burn a hole right through you snuffaluffagus. One bottle of that and a Costco sized portion of Tang and my open-bar  was ready to go. I never said the open-bar would have variety. Just one big punch bowl potent enough to burn your eyeballs clean out their sockets.

The night of the party, things went well enough. I had Flen, I mean Miss Drinks-a-lot serve as the bouncer to my party. She came prepared with a clipboard, headset and stanchions to place in my hallway. Why she owns all those things, I’ll never know (Okay, well the clipboard isn’t that unusual but stanchions?)

I’d placed pumpkins and cobwebs….well, they might have been spiderwebs – what’s a cobweb anyway? Are they a like a cobbler’s web or do they have something to do with corn on the cob? Either way they were real, not store-bought. I very carefully brought up from the basement for authenticity and placed them throughout my condo. Monster Mash was booming from the stereo.

I had my other friend Tacquito man the punchbowl and make sure everyone took a real big sip of “Tang” as they came in.

Clumsy Feet, Pot-O-Gold, Humungo, Man Laugh and even Hook Nose all showed up plus about 200 more (far less than the 400 who RSVP’d but still enough to get the neighbours on my floor and the four floors below to call security – when they showed up I had Tacquito give them a welcome “Tang” and that was the end of that).

For the big prize, I found the drunkest person in the building and gave it to them.

The next morning, my mom called complaining that the there was no 3DTV in the box I’d given her.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure there was a 3DTV in there when you left my house. You were pretty drunk, maybe you lost it on the way home.”

“Hmmm.” She said. “Maybe… but I wasn’t that drunk.”

“You rode the Vacuum.”

“I did?”

“Yup. You broke it.”

“Wow. What was in that punch?”

Aside from some minor cosmetic damage to my condo and the guilt of having lied to my mother (not to mention the twelve people that went to the emergency room with alcohol poisoning) the evening was actually a pretty decent success.

The overall point is that you shouldn’t let people play mind games with you and when someone tries to set you up for failure, prove them wrong. No matter the cost, number of police infractions or hospital bills. Always rise to the challenge. Just be creative about it.

I never throw parties, and with good reason. They usually end up being a disaster (with the exception of my end of year Celebration which is usually a smashing success). You see, crazy things happen at my parties. Things I can’t write about on the internet for fear of prosecution.

Although, now that I think about it I guess I could aways change the names of the parties involved, right? No harm if it’s all anonymous. In that case, I’d like to tell you about the Halloween party I  threw last year.

I should have known it would be a disaster.

You see, it wasn’t my idea. I know better than to host events anymore. Attend them, absolutely (well, maybe) but host them? No sirree.

I blame Jen. Shit. I said I’d change people’s names. I mean… Flen. Right, yes, Flen. Best buddy ever, Flen. We go way back. Met in Kindergarten. So there we were, doing shots of tequila off of each other’s belly buttons, when Jen. Fuck, Flen casually slipped in the suggestion that I should throw a Halloween party. The way she brought it up was extremely sneaky and manipulative. Really, under the radar.

“You should throw a Halloween party.” She said.

I know Flen and her mind games. She’s a criminal paranormal psychologist or something like that and she’s always using tricks like reverse osmosis psychology on me.

Taking a hit of tequila and licking the salt off my wrist, I decided I’d play no part in her cruel and deliberate mind games.

“Yes, Jen I should.” I said to Flen.

“You really should.”

“I will.”

“Great.”

“I’m inviting people right now.” I said, heading over to my laptop and opening up Facebook. I’d show her reverse osmosis psychology.

“Awesome.”

Man, she must have been pissed that I was outwitting her at her own game. Mind tricks my butt! The only reason she’d suggest I throw a party was because she really didn’t want me to throw a party. How dare she imply that I couldn’t throw a Halloween party? I’d show her. Not only would I throw a Halloween party, I’d throw the best Halloween party ever.

As long as I only invited a few people. I live in a small condo and Patrick …uhhh Flatrick…would be very upset if I had too many people over.

See, that was the first mistake I made. Maybe it was the bottle and a half of tequila or the new redesign of Facebook (it’s always changing and I have no idea what I’m doing) but I ended up inviting  friends as well as friends of friends. In all, over four hundred people.

When I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and Flen passed out in the laundry room, head in the dryer (she says when she’s drunk she loves the smell of fresh linen), I quickly realized my mistake. Unfortunately, it was too late. I checked Facebook and 399 of the 402 people I’d invited had RSVP’d that they were attending. I was shocked. No event gets a response like that. There weren’t even any ‘maybe’s.

Then I checked the party details and gasped. I’d declared that my party would have an open bar and a best costume prize of a 55″ 3D HDTV. I think my eyes might have bulged out of my head. My mom had hit ‘like’ on the part about the open bar and commented “Hell yeah!”.

I was screwed.

“Jen!” I screamed to Flennifer Grason, who awoke with a start in the dryer, hit her head and passed out.

Oh, I don’t know if I should continue. I mean, things went from bad to worse after that and I really don’t want you thinking any less of me. It’s just… no… I can’t possibly write about the dramatic and shocking conclusion to my story. It’s just too outlandish and absolutely true. You can’t make me and I won’t. I refuse.

Check back next week for the dramatic conclusion to “Last Years Party”.

I can’t imagine what it would be like shopping for a Halloween costume today. I haven’t worn an outlandish outfit in years (well, I did wear a dress during a pizza break during Here’s To Love! – but again, we’re going to stick with the Halloween topic people). I’m very much a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. It seems a lot of people out there try to pick Halloween costumes that make them look sexy. I have to admit I’ve been guilty of that in the past (to successful and less successful degrees) but I have to say, I can’t imagine being a parent of a teenage girl having the Halloween costume conversation.

There we’d be, me and my loving daughter Shaneeqwa (she’d be white, but of fierce spirit) all close and happy together as we enter the costumer store. One minute we’re laughing together, talking about boys and drinking Starbucks and the next moment we’re having a very serious conversation about what is and isn’t appropriate for a thirteen year old girl to wear.

“You should go as a witch.” I say, suggesting the long black dress and broomstick.

“What about this?” She replies, pointing to a hooker costume on the wall.

“Hmmm. It’s definitely an option sweetie, for some people. Not you. And besides, hookers are out this year.”

“Oh Daddy,” She laughs. “That’s Ke$ha, not a hooker.”

I stare at the costume. How could I have missed the dirt-smeared face and oily hair.

While there’s not much fabric to the costume the make-up and wig aren’t included and I don’t have that type of money. Shaneeqwa knows that and she backs off her point like the well-raised girl she is.

“How about this one?” I suggest.

“Dad. I’m not going as the Hamburglar.”

“People love the Hamburglar.”

“Not happening. What about this?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. A french maid? What if people confuse you for the help and start getting you to clean their house? You don’t want that. The Hamburglar, that’s a winner.”

Eventually our conversation would deteriorate until we’re both in tears and our relationship completely destroyed to the point that only years of therapy and prescription drugs can repair, but only after many painful, lost and lonely years.

That’s why I don’t have children. Really, it’s the absolute only reason

I’m trying to think about my most memorable Halloween. The trouble is I can’t remember any  Halloween with reliable clarity. Slivers of memory ebb by but being that they’re so fragmented I could hardly declare them as being memorable.

I remember, albeit slightly, doing an organized trick or treating thing at a hockey arena. It was meant to be a safe and organized indoor version of Halloween but from what I can remember, it was more like a long line that moved at an incredibly slow pace and yielded barely any candy.

Much clearer, I remember going to a club a few years ago with some friends. Being in a nightclub on Halloween can be surreal. Britney was blaring over the speakers and  I was dancing next to someone with a sexy mid-section and a Homer Simpson head. I don’t mean it as a metaphor. The guy was wearing a Homer Simpson head.

Halloweens with my family were always quiet affairs. The trouble was, at least in the area I grew up in, that not many houses participated in the festivities so the treats were far and few between. The fact the weather in Montreal is so unreliable (particularly near the end of October) that we were always back in plenty of time to watch some scary movies on TV.

As an adult, I’ve only given out candy once. When I lived in Calgary, Patrick and I set up a pumpkin and bought a whole bunch of candy. Three kids passed by and we were left with Costco-quantities of sweets that resulted in my nearly hitting 200 pounds by the end of that November (well, several things lead to that – but we’re talking Halloween here so let’s stick to the topic people).

Okay, there it is. I guess my most memorable Halloween involved Trick or Treating at Disneyworld. In Florida, Disney goes all out with parades, fireworks, and trick or treating – and the locals really do dress up and participate. It’s pretty special, especially when the headless horseman comes galloping down Main Street holding a pumpkin.

It’s almost Halloween (which means that the year is almost over (craziness) so I got together with my friend Peggy, and we happened to discuss how competitive each of us are. The results were hilarious and shocking.