“Planning schmanning,” Jack answered almost immediately. “Who plans anything anymore? Just go where the wind takes you and embrace opportunities as they arise. That's the only way to really live.” Using one hand, he flipped Cher's hair a bit over her plastic shoulder. Truthfully, Jack didn't plan much of anything. It required too much effort and work, and unless it was something that was going to prove to be in his direct benefit there was no point in expending said effort.
As for the rest, “What do you mean what year was it when I left? Same as you, I'd imagine.” He shook his head and frowned. “This isn't Oz, or Neverland, or Narnia... Unless you stepped into some magical wardrobe and came out here on the other side, it was the same year as it was for me.”
Waving his free hand in the air, he answered, “You know, Two-thousand blah, blah blah. Who is counting? Why count? Do I look like a calendar?” Truthfully, Jack purchased a Chippendale's calendar every year, but he paid attention to anything but the dates or the year on it. It was all about the photographs.