This morning as I drove to work, trying not to think about how my phone said it was 17º outside while my car said it was 22º and thinking that I don’t care that I just read two different temperatures, it’s still freaking cold out. To try to stay warm while my car got up to temp, I started to let my mind wander to take it off of the cold, I remembered that next week is that most American of holidays. That’s right, only one more week till Black Friday. Now I know what you’re thinking, Thanksgiving comes first, and you are right. But when two holidays fall so close together, you have to be ready for the next day as well. And even though my stomach is more concerned with the Turkey and the stuffing and the gravy, and the football, there is a little spot in the back of my head that every year debates “Am I going to go to the store? Am I crazy? Or will I just be lazy?”

In the 1920s, Macy’s Department store started what is now a Thanksgiving day tradition. Houses across the US tune in two watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, even if it’s just on in the background while the family begins its Turkey Preparations. The parade has come to symbolize the celebration of family, and the subliminal message of holiday shopping. Well, maybe not too subliminal since the parade is the “Macy’s” Thanksgiving Day Parade, and goes by their big store in NYC. And at the end of the Parade, Santa comes riding in on his sleigh to remind us all that after today when the stores reopen tomorrow, that the Christmas shopping season has begun.

In the world of retail, seasons and holidays always seem to come months before the event. As soon as Halloween was over, Christmas decorations and merchandise were already going up. For people like my sister who watch their shopping budget, the shopping begins before the leaves even turn colors. Until recently, I used to wait until the week before Christmas to do all my shopping. But I guess when you are single and don’t have a lot of people to shop for, it makes more sense. Now, even I contemplate the early shopping. But no matter how early the Christmas season seems to start every year, there is one day that will never move, BLACK FRIDAY.

However, this year I have noticed something new. Maybe it’s been there for a while and I’m just noticing it now, or maybe stores are trying to build the hype. This year I have noticed reports of Black Friday ads being leaked from places like Circuit City, Radio Shack and Best Buy. And with the economy the way that it is, some stores (Circuit City) are hanging on by a thread, and Black Friday is just the ticket to pull them out. Now, I am no longer averse to going to the store on Black Friday (or stay at home and shop online), but there is no way I am getting up early to go to the store on my day off. In fact, getting me to the store before lunch would be a miracle. But the real question is, what is it about Black Friday that will make people get out of bed at 3 AM when they normally groan about getting up at 6 or 7 Am for their job, go out in the cold of night when they hate the cold, stand in a line and then encounter this…

For what, so save $50 on a toy, or a DVD player? Yes, I like to save money, and love finding great deals on products (especially electronics) but nothing would make me get up this early for a piece of plastic with some wires in it. Further more, events like this betray the Christmas spirit and the whole reason we came to the store in the first place. We aren’t out shopping for ourselves (or at least we shouldn’t be) we are out shopping for the people in our lives that mean something. And we are there to get them a gift that shows them that we care about and cherish them. But when I look around and see that Black Friday is only about the consumer in us, then I have to say that it, more than other holiday, is the most American. It is the capitalist holiday that wants us to get out of our warm beds, dress for a snow storm, kiss our loved ones good-bye, and head out for battle against our neighbors for the last 42″ LCD that we are buying for our kids bedroom that doesn’t even have a wall big enough to put the TV on.

In this last week leading up to Black Friday, slow your role, and think about it before you head out. Wouldn’t you rather sleep in and have a nice breakfast with the family and enjoy the day off. And then, if you really want to take advantage of the sales, go out after lunch when all the crazy people have gone home. Sure, it will still be crowded, and maybe the stock pile has gone down somewhat, but there will still be things to buy, and sales to be had. Happy Shopping Everyone!

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One of our partners, Champs Sports, has already sent us their Black Friday Special: More to come soon!

We were told it is majestic, awe inspiring, and affordable – a perfect travel spot. So, AAVR Magazine sent two intrepid reporters on a no-expenses paid trip to see what impressions that they could make about this rumored paradise.

AAVR Magazine reporters Sybil and Justin give their thoughts about their experiences in this strange, foreign land. They’ll look at the local people, local products, and even the regional cuisine.

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First Impressions:

SYBIL: The oasis known to some as “Ikea” [eye-KEE-yuh] left me completely dazed—I was so overwhelmed, in fact, that I frantically began asking others for help.

I turned to my friend Chris, a guy who has always come through for me with snappy answers to often perplexing questions. He’s never disappointed me before.

Me: When you think of Ikea, what comes to mind?

Chris: Furniture.

‘Twasn’t the answer I’d wanted, nor was it the one that sufficiently and succinctly described my own experience at the yes-assembly-required destination.

Long hours spent working for The Man had me craving spontaneity, and a sense of adventure my daily walks through my ‘hood could not provide (note: danger and adventure, two notions that often walk hand-in-hand, are most definitely not the same thing). I’d heard of a destination that had recently, quite magically, popped up in Justin’s neck of the concrete jungle known as Brooklyn. This do-it-yourself wonderland, from what I’d heard (from peers more well-informed than my dear, suddenly mute friend Chris) was a one-stop destination for the tired (beds), poor (cheap beds) and hungry (gourmet delights a stone’s throw from said cheap beds). Forget Lady Libs—Ikea is where it’s at.

JUSTIN: I live a little closer to this destination than my travel partner. In fact, after packing a cooler, two suitcases, the entire Baby Sitters Club series in books-on-tape format, three pounds of beef jerky and a worn-out tape of Chris Ledoux, I realized that it is actually close enough that I could ride my bicycle. However, since I had committed all of this effort to a well-stocked car, I picked Sybil up and we headed there.

As we drove our way through the bumpy cobblestones of Red Hook, I lauded my own decision to drive — especially since we were expected to bring back souvenirs for everyone in the office. We approached the structure, looming like a glacier in an oil spill, a bright, clean beacon jutting out from gritty Red Hook. We pulled onto the premises and were greeted by so many smiling parking attendants that I thought for a moment I had actually taken a wrong turn and ended up at a theme park.

But I was confident that this would actually be better than a theme park, offering treats for both my wheats side and my sweets side.

SYBIL: Unlike my apparently well-prepared colleague (Justin, for the future, while I’m not a beef jerky lover, I would have liked access to the Baby Sitters Club stash), I arrived at our destination with little besides the clothes on my back. As you will undoubtedly witness through several of the pictures contained in this article, one of the key items I forgot to bring along was my shame. Still, as a serious journalist committed to her readers, I felt the best approach would also be a no-holds-barred one. My investigative nature may have allowed for some amusing photographs, but my hands-on approach also opened me up to the lay of the land in ways pure observation never would. I decided, in honor of all of you, to charge:

NEXT: PEOPLE

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The network once known for its tendency to, you, know, play music and whatever, is now known as the place has-beens go to find love, lose weight and/or find themselves (read: die without dignity). Disappointed as I am by this fact, I must admit I do tune in to watch these monumental disasters unfold. Heck, I watched the aforementioned show until the bitter end, when Oscar de la Hoya’s Niece (yeah, really) went up against a TV Host to vie for Poison Lead Singer’s affections. I was altogether entertained, nauseous and, well, a bit jealous.

I know I’ve probably elicited a very negative reaction from readers with that statement. But let me explain: I wasn’t jealous of the Rock of Skanks skanks. I wasn’t jealous of Bret “No This Bandana That I Never Take Off Isn’t Masking my Male-Pattern Baldness” Michaels. But I was jealous of his bank account. Seriously, how much cash money do you think that guy’s made by appearing on two seasons of VH1’s highest-rated show (I’m not kidding)? So here’s what I’ve decided:

Shibow’s lookin’ for love.

I should probably state for the record that I am somewhat spoken for, in case my “new flame” (as he was recently referred to as by a fellow diner at a pretty decent restaurant I’ll somehow work in to a future post) reads this, takes me seriously and storms off into the night, to be heard from only after the show has ended and US Weekly hunts him down for dirt. Then again, I’m fairly certain almost all of these wash-ups have a piece on the side (example: After the season 2 finale of Flavor of Love, it was revealed that Flav had actually knocked up a completely different woman, and there went his otherwise most certainly sold relationship with Deelishis), so I really shouldn’t feel as bad about the whole sham.

As you’ve probably already guessed from the title, I’ve decided to call the show Sybil Wars, because I believe it’s high time I started embracing at least some of the joke-y variations on my name (I shall never, though, accept Nipple as a valid nickname). I also realized that due to my lack of patience with, well, everything, and my slight attention deficiency, I should cut the number of contestants to five. Let’s take a look at our lucky contenders:

Bret Michaels- Because I need an excuse to get that damned rag off of his head, and because I believe the man needs a taste of his own Poison…tee hee (Yeah! Oh yeah! Totally just high-fived myself! So clever!).

Jaleel White- aka Steve Urkel, just because I’d like to find out what the hell’s happened to him.

Dude from Chumbawumba- (see above)

Steve the Dell Dude- Do you remember this guy? He had a pretty huge cult following until a marijuana bust ended his reign. I always thought he had some sort of serious disorder on which Dell was capitalizing. Now’s my chance to find out for sure!

Buddha from I Love New York 2- Because every show needs an acting coach/actor/lifecoach/motivational speaker/former guest on Blind Date. Surely, the bald one is here for all the right reasons.

Now, we move on to the various challenges I plan to impart on my five possible mates. Most of these challenges have been borrowed from other shows of a similar nature. Actually, to be quite honest, most of these challenges have been borrowed from Rock of Love, which provided more than enough material for Sybil Wars.

Challenges (which, as I am, again, not terribly attentive, will all take place in the first episode) will include:

- fellating phallic-like food objects (this one was actually taken from That’s Amore, another gem of a dating show)

- participating in an extreme sport whilst protecting our unborn child in a stroller (Rock of Love)

- performing while trapped — or, I guess, willingly placed — within a coin-operated transparent case, where another quarter means you get to dance, monkey, dance! (yep, Rock of Love)

- perform the ultra-complicated bharatanatayam while singing a popular Top 40 song of Vh1’s — oops, I mean my — choosing (That one was all me!)

- here, I was going to include “grill your exes.” I’ve decided, however, that in order to best protect both myself and anyone I may ever come in contact with, I’m going to grill your doctors.

Instead of making you all trudge through the boring first 35 minutes or so, I’ve decided to simply cut to the elimination.

Elimination

Sybil, in her finest sari, stands in the center of a well-lit, brightly-colored room, staring down her five possible mates, who stand terrified in a snake pit.

Sybil:

Jaleel, while I was shocked by your affair with Laura Winslow — by the way, girl who played Laura Winslow, I’ll never learn your real name — and while I’m still not completely convinced you’re over her, you went to town on that popsicle, which clearly means you’re madly in love with me. Come, claim your samosa.

The next samosa goes to a guy I’m pretty sure I can live without, but in order to allow for a possible death-match between yourself and Urkel later in the season — a la your run-in with Tailor Made during your last gig — I’ll keep you just a bit longer. Buddha, come to me.

The third samosa goes to someone who I actually thought was in a permanent vegetative state until a snack-sized bag of oregano sent him into fits of excitement, then euphoria, then confusion, then seizures. If that’s not charming, I don’t know what charming means. Steven the Dell Dude, would you come down here, please?

And now I have two marginally famous men in front of me, and only one samosa in my hand. Now I know who I’m going to give this to, and I’m sure all of you do as well, but in order to draw this mind-numbing process out a bit longer, we’ll go to break.

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We’re back, and in order to kill time, I’m going to remind everyone that I have TWO MARGINALLY FAMOUS MEN in front of me, and only ONE SAMOSA LEFT.

Dude from Chumbawumba, you’ve kept yourself together quite well these past ten years since your first and last inexplicably big hit. Disappearing into oblivion has served you well. The fact that you were the only contestant to not mistake our baby’s head for the ball during X-TREME Dodgeball also enlightened me quite a bit on your parenting skills. Still, your efforts in the peep show were pathetic at best, which makes me doubt your affection for me. Your admission that you’ve got no affection for me also makes me doubt your affection for me.

Bret, I’m not sure how you made it on to this show. The suits sort of pressured me into squeezing you in. I’m assuming that things with Amber didn’t work out, which astounds me. I am trying to think of something positive to say to you in order to make it seem as if I am actually struggling with whether or not to send you home, but instead, I am just going to ramble for a bit and hope our viewing audience doesn’t catch on. Your reluctance to let me see you without your bandanna, in addition to the results of your physical exam, (which I would reveal on national television were it not for our time constraints) ultimately may have possibly sealed your fate.

Bret, would you come up here please? Bret, I’m supposed to say you’re an amazing person. So…yeah…you’re an amazing person. But, I’m sorry, I would not tap that. Please pack your goods and bounce.

And Scene.

Now I’m trying to decide whether or not to a. have the snakes in the snake pit be poisonous, as this would aide in my decision-making process (survival of the fittest and all) and b. have he who is eliminated be kicked out of the house or killed. I’m also trying to decide whether or not to choose a mate in the finale and break up with him during the reunion show or just completely disappear three episodes in, as I have a feeling even I may not make it through to the end. Hell, let’s make this part of the excercise interactive, in order to encourage a bit of audience participation. You’re up, readers. Make my dreams come true.