Let's Start at the Very Beginning

We call our house The Stumble Inn. Punny, right? We stumble in to the Stumble Inn? Our house also goes by the name The Midget Sex Store. WHAT? No, that is not a typo (we originally called ourselves The Bitches Next Door, but when someone misheard, the name changed right away). Anyway, these names probably give you some idea as to who we are. We are fun and crazy and love a good party. So we decided to throw one of these so called “good parties” when some of us moved in for the summer. And it was amazing. It was Kayla’s birthday party (Kayla lives in the Stumble Inn), and everyone had a great time playing beer pong and dancing on tables.

We thought when everyone left our house the party was over. But oh were we just so so wrong.

Three days after the party, the room mates and I (the girls living there for the summer) were minding our own business in our own rooms watching Netflix, studying, and plucking our eyebrows, when we heard a scream come from the upstairs bathroom. “AHHHHH COME QUICK!” It was Marlee. Marlee is deathly afraid of bugs, and almost peed her pants when she saw a centipede crawling around the bathroom floor. Kayla and I took care of the bug, and we thought the screams would end there.

But oh were we just so so wrong.

Just as the bug dilemma had passed, Ellen (who lives downstairs at the Stumble Inn) asked Marlee to bring her towels from our spare bedroom upstairs. Always willing to help, Marlee opened the door to the bedroom, grabbed the pile of towels, and revealed something hiding in the pile. Just then, chocolate cake rolled out of the towels and on to the floor. Chocolate cake? How did the birthday cake get in to our spare bedroom? We were trying to figure out how the chocolate cake made its way upstairs when we remembered that Kayla’s birthday cake was not chocolate. It was vanilla. We looked at each other, took a step backwards, and realized it was not cake we were looking at. It was human waste. Yes, someone used one of our bedrooms as a toilet. Marlee froze and screamed once more as she realized that the “chocolate cake” had hit her leg as it fell out of the pile of towels. We truly didn’t know what to do. What kind of person uses a bedroom as a toilet? What kind of people had been at our party? We weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It was mostly laughs that would turn in to tears and then back to laughs. We knew we had to get the “chocolate cake” out of the house, so Marlee and Zoe took the lead (my hypochondriac self decided to stay out of the room while taking pictures and videos). They put the “chocolate cake” in a box, put some carpet cleaner on the stain (we ended up steam cleaning the carpet the next day), and took it out to the garbage can. And we thought that was that.

But oh were we just so so so wrong.

As we took the box of “chocolate cake” out to the garbage cans, we realized that it was garbage night, and the trash would be picked up in the morning. This is a good thing right? They would pick up the “chocolate cake” in a few short hours and it would be gone forever. That sounds easy, but as we walked outside to take the garbage cans to the curb, it was not only starting to thunderstorm, but our garbage cans were covered with maggots. Yes, covered from top to bottom in large, white, lumpy maggots. As it started to pour rain, we realized we had to take care of the maggots. So we stood in the rain, wiping maggots off of our garbage cans, still holding the box of “chocolate cake”. We removed the maggots from the cans, and Zoe ran the cans to the curb, screaming and crying and laughing and making a complete scene that was one of the funniest things Marlee must have ever seen, because right there in our backyard comes the grand finale of our story, and Marlee (who never actually went to the bathroom after seeing the bug) peed her pants. Right there. In the rain. And there was me, taking more pictures and laughing harder than I think I ever have.

And then it was finally over.

Thankfully, Marlee is a good sport, and found the whole story to be hilarious and an amazing memory maker.

So, that’s how it all started. This is how the Stumble Inn began its journey. This should give you an idea as to who we are and what college students are capable of. Just as a side note, every party we have hosted since the “chocolate cake” incident has been an outdoor party. Because we would rather pick up red cups from our backyard than “chocolate cake” from a bedroom any day.