On Wednesday night Snarkier Than You and I attended the Aiming Low Party. At first we were hesitant about going out in public, but we deduced by the name of the party that we would fit right in. I mean, you can't get much lower than a blog that is entirely devoted to older women cursing, getting drunk, obsessing over teen novels and lusting after a certain male actor who would, most likely, whimper in fear if either of us ever actually approached him. Especially after, ahem, what will forever be known as Pantygate 2009.

We were wrong. Apparently their lowered bars still rest high above ours.

The meetup was hosted by Hewlett Packard and held in the Sheraton in New York City. Fancy Schmancy! To prepare, STY and I met up with adorable, funny-as fuck-Effbit. You may know her from the blog Nomness. If you don't you need to check 'em out.

Anyhoo, we met up at a bar beforehand because STY and I are socially defective and needed to have a few cocktails before heading over to the hotel to, well, socialize. We knew we would get along famously with Effbit when both her and STY whipped out their flasks (I left mine at home! I'm an irresponsible drinker!).

Like peas in a pod... that's all I'm saying...

After one or three drinks, Effbit took the lead and we were off, buzzed enough to feel comfortable meeting total strangers. And even talking to them! Well, for me at least. Effbit seemed totally nonplussed about the whole thing. Bitch.

We go to check in at the hotel and I experienced one of those moments when I wished I had thought through my decisions a little harder. You what I'm talking about? It's the kind of moment where you suddenly step back and think, 'well, fuck me. This was a really stupid idea, after all. Wish I had thought of this before!!' You see, there were all these sweet and efficient looking mommy types wandering around when the lady with the clipboard asks, "Your name?"

"Jenny..." [fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!]..."Jerkface." I can't be sure because I immediately burst into a bout of embarrassed sweating, but I think people moved away from me. Alarmed.

"It's okay," STY grumbled as she slapped her hastily written Twitarded sticker on her tit. "I just had to sign in as Snarkier Than You."

I felt better.

Goodie-filled schwag-bags in tow, we started for the front of the ballroom but had a high school moment and corrected our trajectory to make a beeline for the back instead, where I assumed we could go unnoticed. That's what one wants in a social event, right? Plus it was closer to the food and the bar - wooo! best. seats. ever.

We didn't go unnoticed and, for once, I'm glad. We had a nice chat with TJ Barber, author of Chronicles of a fat girl named miss t. j. who is just plain awesome. Next we met Barefoot Foodie, who was pretty much the whole damn reason we went in the first place because she actually made me pee a little when I read her post Hot Pants.

We had a really good time! All the ladies at Aiming Low were really nice and no one punched us in the face for being a Twilight blog [even when STY put her nametag on her forehead], though I did get a raised eyebrow for snorting at the table. I think. Did I mention they had free cocktails? Uh huh, they had free cocktails. And really really good hors d'oeuvres (a.k.a. "dinner").

The free booze may or may not have had anything to with the fact that I almost dragged poor STY on the wrong subway on the way home. Luckily, I realized it - otherwise we could have ended up someplace we wouldn't want to be. It didn't help that STY wasn't exactly stoked about being at my mercy navigation-wise, especially since I have zero sense of direction, but we managed to get back to Penn Station relatively unscathed.

Yes, STY, I totally know where I am going. We have to go down here. Hellooooo I take the subway everyday and.. oh, fuck me. We're going the wrong way. Shut up.

Oh, except for some dude that was making fun of us on the subway. See? We were on our best behavior and people STILL rag on us! Well, okay, I might have been making fun of STY because she didn't want to touch the pole [that's what she said] but still. It's bad when complete stranger mock you on the subway in New York City. I didn't think we were that weird but there you go. Bastids.

Oh, by the way, Pantygate was gaining speed and about to turn into a full on, no-lube-anal-clusterfuck at this point. In fact, we weren't even aware of the storm brewing...

See? See how happy and calm we look?! Well, STY says I always look evil but whatever. Oh, and to all the male commenters that have been gleefully throwing out their two cents regarding Pantygate. No, we aren't fat ugly women with nine million cats and warts. So lick my whisker biscuit, fuckers.