The New Year lurched in with indifference while I watched TV. New Year's Eve has never been particularly interesting to me. The closest thing to a New Year's Eve party I've ever been to was two or three years ago when I worked second shift and we all said, "Happy New Year!" as we jammed our cards in the punch-clock at midnight. And last night all I did at midnight was switch the TV from Degrassi back to AbFab, and then stick my head back in the GIMP book I'm reading.

The only thing I've ever wanted to do on New Year's Eve is hop in a supersonic jet and try to outrun the new year. I'd start in New Zealand and travel west, stopping along the way to enjoy 24 more hours than everyone else--or something like that.

Back when the old millennium was ending (and I'm referring to the real end on Dec. 31, 2000, not the sham ending on Dec. 31, 1999) I got a mild kick out of listening to radio broadcasts from different time zones. No, really. First I listened to the BBC World Service from the UK where the New Year had already hit, so in effect I was listening to a broadcast from the future--the 21st century. And then after the New Year hit here, I listened to a broadcast coming out of Chicago, which was still in the 20th century. That was a once in a lifetime opportunity--even if it was pretty lame. (God, I'm such a nerd.)