Discover more from Dust-Bit : Tales of a Hollywood Never-Was
The House of Dicks
And the Curious Case of the Whip-it People
Working at the Jackass offices, professionally called “Dickhouse Productions” was unlike any other office on the planet. And it basically ruined me for life. Where else are you going to be to applauded for throwing something at a co-workers laptop? Or asked by your boss to throw a frozen (yes frozen) plastic footage through the wall before you could go to your desk? No where. All other offices are soul sucking hell holes.
The Dickhouse office was painted in primary colors, a “My First Office” kind of feel. Jackass paraphernalia lined the walls. There were skateboards and BMX bikes laying around and just random man-child toys all over.
On the TV an infomercial for the “Shake Weight” played on a loop. Guitar Hero was close by. One of the office doors had multiple bowel movements printed out and taped to the door. I’d find out soon that was Dimity’s office, and the person I’d party with the most from Dickhouse.
Sometimes you’d hear someone scream cause they found a fake rat in a toilet. Every guy walked around covering their crotch, CONSTANTLY. I was like “what a bunch of fucking weirdos” but I’d soon realize it was because when they didn’t someone would punch them in the dick. You’d find the weirdest things laying around like fake penises, or random G-Strings from Party Boy. There’d be massive empty containers of lube in the trash.
One of the bosses Knoxville, wore a sailor suit some days and Tremaine the director would just walk by your desk and swipe everything on the floor and just keep going.
They even made an app where you could puke, poop, jizz or just basically ruin your coworkers laptop screen. It was especially ideal for when someone was in a meeting.
Sometimes people would clear out other peoples offices and move all their stuff to other rooms and pretend like nothing happened, just cause.
I remember hearing stories about Spike Jonze smashing plates over peoples heads in a restaurant the night before. And there was always a mix of characters visiting the place.
We’d go to the bar at lunch, and sneak to Dimitry’s apartment to smoke pot and play Guitar hero.
I don’t know how we managed to get anything done.
I had been working on a documentary about Big Brother Magazine on another floor, but that had been put on hold so I was moved to a new project, “The Demise & Rise of Steve O” I didn’t know much about Steve O except that he puked a lot and had eaten a goldfish. He had just gotten sober and MTV was making a TV special about him.
I had the task of going through every tape Steve O had made since he was about 13. He filmed EVERYTHING. Literally everything.
So one thing I didn’t mention was that I was hungover usually every day.
Another important thing to mention was most of Steve O’s footage was him partying. And I’m not talking regular partying. Like his whole floor covered with empty whip-it canisters, to the point where you couldn’t see the carpet, kind of partying. Snorting coke, drinking, smoking weed. Doing PCP. Smashing holes through walls. Pissing on stuff. You name it.
I remember when Steve O first came to the office he was appalled that “the new girl” was looking at all his tapes. He had good reason too. But I wouldn’t ever tell anything I saw on the tapes that wasn’t in the documentary. That’s not my place.
So for months I sat hungover as fuck going through Steve O’s life. At some point I remember coming back to my desk to find a mysterious pile of orange pills laying on top it. I’d find out they were adderall and being the total fuck-up that I was, I just started taking them. This would start almost a decade long struggle with the drug. If you’re not prescribed adderall it seems awesome at first, you feel like you can work for hours, days, but in reality you’re just kinda spinning your wheels.
So now I’m hungover and high on amphetamines watching Steve-O slowly lose control of his life.
I’d never done a Whip-it. This movie made sure I never would. As I said his floor was covered in them. Like piles of the tiny metal cartridges. It got to the point where Steve O thought that the “Whip-it People” were talking to him. It was dark.
The editor Seth and I would joke about it. Oh The Whip-it People are coming to get cha. The Whip-it people want a sandwich, The Whip-it People can see your soul.
We were major assholes. We just smoked weed all day out back and hissed at anyone that came into the edit bay.
As I dug deeper and Steve O got higher, he’d talk to the Whip-it people and to his mother who had recently passed from Cancer. What started as funny soon became heartbreaking. And I felt like shit for being high watching all this go down.
I recently lost my father to cancer and went on a bender as well. Nothing to a Steve O level, but I now understand how much pain he must have been going through. And even though we barely know each other, I’m proud of Steve O for getting clean, and I’m proud of myself too. Drugs are fun and all but the road always ends, badly.
But I did find a place that I felt like I belonged.
I could be myself at the Dickhouse office. Even as a nobody assistant I felt like I belonged to something, and I had a little family in LA. They accepted me as a shit-head. An outcast cause they were outcasts too. I could have done a better job I’m sure but I was having too much fun.
Thankfully, I never met the Whip-it People.