stink eye for the stink guy

so i was at red door east on sunday night and a guy wearing a tank top came up and put his arm around me. first off, strike one for wearing a tank top.
so his bare, wet pit met my bare shoulder. "ehhh" i thought. i blew it off-- it's summer--we're all a little sticky...even though i don't know him well enough to have his pit sweat on me, i forgave. the whiskey forgave.
so i move on, later noticing this lingering raunchy BO stank and even knowing my pits could never produce such filth, my first reaction is to lift my own arm and take a sniff. Mountain Rain Fresh, just like the container says. so i smell my shoulder. there it is. the culprit. the tank-top-clad stranger's armpit residue. "what the fuck" i say aloud to present company. "i didn't ask for this". i look at him across the deck with an evil stare, watching him spread his offensive juices to innocent happy folks, unaware that they too were about to be "pitted". what does one do in this situation?...no no...not go to the bathroom and try to wash it off. my genius, whiskey-soaked-been-at-the-lake-all-day brain thinks..."more whiskey". it is, after all, a cure-all. so i ask my friend to pour whiskey on my shoulder. he obliges, rubbing it in good with a napkin. GUESS WHAT? it didn't work.

the moral of this story is, never waste precious whiskey on your friends skin, no matter how stinky she is.