There Ain’t No Party Like an AFI Party, Because an AFI Party Don’t Stop

Yrs trly girded his loins Saturday night and ventured out to the W Hotel for some AFI action. I brought back two really bad photos.

In this first image we see noted bon vivant Brandt Wood, who work knickers to AFI’s opening gig Thursday night. Saturday night he kept his gams covered, to the relief of everyone in attendance (he himself admitted he could use a little sun). Who are the two raven-haired minxes with him? I don’t know. I was too scared to talk to them. But as soon as Brandt cuddled up with them for a pic, about six photographers beset the trio. We’ll have proper images up soon over at our party pics section. So there’s that.

In this second image we see your humble blogger being stroked manfully by none other than Big Bob Wilonsky. Now I know why they call him Fingers of Fury.

Other highlights of the evening included an impromptu performance of the To Be Continued Brass Band, the subject of the documentary From the Mouthpiece On Back; the debonairness that is Elvis Mitchell; the things that Jay Gormley said that he hopes I won’t repeat; and Courtney Dreslin and Jeff Sinelli having the wherewithal to find our cars after the valet stand outside Victory Tavern, where we’d parked, disappeared while we were at the party. Good times.