getting to the bottom of apples
Gentlemen, if you want to make a splash with the ladies I would suggest enduring an afternoon of apple picking. I realize that spending hours wandering around looking for apples in trees along with another dozen poor bastards when you could have easily gone to a grocery store and finished not only your apple picking but also your orange picking and beef jerky picking in half the time might seem like a colossal waste of time but you have to remember the value of appearing wholesome.
Your gal will see you plodding around holding your bag and squinting and getting sunburned and swatting bees and think to herself “How wholesome! I’ve really landed a wholesome guy.”
How does this benefit you?
Well, aside from all the apple pies and apple sauce and apple whatever-the-hell-else-you-can-insert-an-apple-intos there is also the unspoken rule of wholesomeness.
It allows you some unwholesome wriggle room.
I think we all know what I’m hinting at.
Apple picking leads to anal. I don’t write the rules, I just expose them.
Now the first thing you might do if you’ve ever actually been apple picking is to wince and try to get the image of the people you saw picking apples having anal sex out of your head. I’ll tell you right now you can’t. There is something about wholesome-looking, dumpy, crunchy, earthy people in bad sweaters plowing each other in the ass that stays with you. Forever.
Actually I apologize. This was really written for people who have never been apple picking. Perhaps I should have started the story with a warning.
This little theory of mine explains why women on farms always have an apple pie cooling on the windowsill. It’s the rural way of announcing that she is a slut. Traveling salesmen will keep their car windows rolled down in the hopes of catching a whiff of apple so they know where to pull in. Some of those farm girls are only too enthusiastic to add a few places to the whatever-the-hell-else-you-can-insert-an-apple-into list. Which explains why country folk stay away from farm stands offering ‘Fresh Squeezed Cider.”
Sort of longing for the image of wholesome-looking, dumpy, crunchy, earthy people in bad sweaters plowing each other in the ass now aren’t you?
At this point it’s perfectly reasonable to be asking yourself what the hell apple picking and anal sex have to do with each other. Perfectly reasonable if you’re not paying attention to human nature.
The point is that I’ve been to some of the wildest clubs in the darkest corners of the most heartless cities and found some of the most repressed girls to ever walk the planet so it only stands to reason that everybody who goes apple picking is a sex maniac.
It’s in our DNA. You think that it’s a coincidence that a girl’s ass looks like an apple? That it was an apple that got Adam and Eve chucked out of the Garden? That a girl can be the apple of someone’s eye? That the whole gravity thing was started by an apple? That it was an apple that William Tell had to shoot of his son’s head?
Ok … maybe not the William Tell thing or the gravity thing but the rest of the evidence is hard to ignore.
Is there anyone who loves anal more than Fiona Apple?
I rest my case. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have my eye on a particular apple.