My first favorite thing that happened on Sunday night: Someone barfed over the railing of Grandma's patio. If I know that bar, I'm guessing that happens nightly.
Also: My unemployed friend made a surprise visit, perhaps stealing a bit of the attention of the birthday boy, who later referred to himself as the "warm-up band."
I woke with two cans of Natty Light crammed into my purse with an unopened hunk of Sharp Cheddar Cheese. My favorite part about after bars at my former landlord's: Souvenirs from his fridge.