We were sitting on the porch of Dead Rat Beach, having some terribly important discussion about fake punks versus real punks, when I said: “You know who K is like? That whiny prick Neil from Real World Four. ‘There’s not enough intellectual stimulation in this house.’” I rolled my eyes. But Alex just blinked at me. He had no idea what I was referencing, the way he often had no idea what I was referencing.