It’s the mid-’90s, so they have to use the yearbook to find pictures of the girls they lust after, or a furtively watched VHS copy of True Lies.
The lo-fi tech (cassettes, a Discman, cable descramblers), and kids jacking off to Jamie Lee Curtis’ True Lies striptease allow you to slide right into this epoch, (un)comfortably riding your own Schwinn down these manicured streets, sneaking cigarettes in the park and shouting “penis!” like a brat in front of your crush’s house.
They’re an immature foursome blabbing about comic book superheroes, cursing up a storm while discussing the grossness of dried squid (which they all try), bragging about how they’re immortal (“like Highlander”) and, in Daryl’s case, announcing that he jerked off “two-and-a-half times” to True Lies ’ striptease scene.
The morbid humor, boorish banter, trolling the school yearbook telling dirty lies or dirtier truths about the girls whose pictures they see therein, the warped values, creepy lack of a sense of proportion, the insane, inane admissions about why they watch their parents’ copy of “True Lies” late at night (Jamie Lee Curtis striptease), the ’90s fashion sense, impotent rage at bullies, not knowing what to do with your older brother’s pot stash now that he’s in the military, the tentative blunders in approaching that first real crush — it’s excruciating — to an ex-“Boy” any way.