While I could write something about the crapfest that was the 2004 Peach Bowl (in the immortal words of Xander Harris, "on a scale from 1 to 10, it sucked"), I'll instead take a cue from both batnandu
That was totally last year, man.
Counting from midnight, my own new year started quite auspiciously, with mirth and drink and many dear friends. If Charles Schulz is to be believed, then the presence of two
warm puppies at our gathering suggests this year will be quite happy, indeed.
As Neil Gaiman offers:
May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
Happy New Year to All.