Next On The To Do List: The Garbage Man

by Diego

Let's see, I've done homeless men in Brazil, random construction workers off the street and married white men whose wives were 8-months pregnant. Just when my hags had thought I couldn't stoop any lower, I come to realize I have the finest motherfucking garbage man working on my street weekdays. If you wanna watch, join me Monday thru Fridays on my fire escape around 1 a.m.

This is not your average garbage man from the Bronx. This is a man who hauls heavy bags of trash all night long shirtless, wearing a Yankees cap and his pants hanging low. Even in a chilly autumnal night he has no shirt on and throws those black bags onto the back of that garbage truck like they were bitches he had just been done pounding, and it was now time to chuck 'em.

He has the kind of body that only a straight man could have: organically muscular without having to go to the gym a single day of the week. I stop jacking off to Shemale porn every night around 12:45 a.m. and go to the fire escape wait for him to pass by. He has never noticed me. I suppose he may be used to the staring by now. Even my straight roommate is aware of his hotness ("That guy, I have to admit, is very good looking".)

Last time my main fag hag was over I showed him to her and she just had to have him too. So we both went downstairs pretending to just be chilling in front of the apartment at two in the morning. We gawked without a hint of shyness. We wanted him to make eye contact so we could offer him a bath upstairs, a nice fluffy towel and then an infinite amount of unforgettable blow jobs.

But he never paid attention to our staring, to our creaming our pants as he spat on the ground, burped and hauled 40-pound garbage bags onto a moving vehicle. So next time we decided I'm gonna dress up as a girl and we will holla at him from the fire escape, like Rapunzel, hoping he will hold on to our braids and climb onto our apartment to pound both of our asses until sunrise. Honey, I won't even mind the smell. Eating ass doesn't smell exactly nice anyway. And that's what I've been doing all Sunday afternoon.

I Basically Fucked A Locksmith

by Diego

So much for trying to stay celibate in New York for two weeks. Next thing you know you meet a charming young locksmith at your job and that's it. You're back to your wild Craigslist-esque ways. Except this trick was spawn by the real world, imagine that.

He came in to fix the lock to the storage, which was stuck. And since everyone at my work place is a bottom we had to call to get the thing fixed. I never had a thing for locksmiths. As a matter of fact, when I think of them I picture an old guy or some Korean immigrant who ignores everything you say and then charges you $500 for a key. But this locksmith surprised me. He was in his early 20s and had a thick Israeli accent. He wore glasses, was a bit scrawny and in dire need for a haircut. But I decided to flirt anyway, because it's fun to risk losing your job over Jewish cock, I suppose.

The thing is, he flirted back. He wasn't feminine at all, despite the intellectual/hipster look. Which kept me interested. Plus, my fag hag is Jewish and has told me that most straight men in Israel fuck fags because unlike America, they have this thing where they try to enjoy their sexuality.

So I watched him hammer a screwdriver onto the broken lock so hard it almost made me cum. He unscrewed things and slammed things with such mastery and dexterity I just wanted to reward him with the best blow job a Manhattanite could give him before he went back to Bed-Stuy.



When the new lock was up and running he decided to test it with both of us inside the storage space. I asked him if he had watched "Yasser and Jagger". He said no. "So you likes the Israeli gay films, huh?", he said. Yes, and I likes your Israeli straight dick too, so do me already!

Anyway, he wasn't druze or Brazilian or anything so of course I had to work for my meat, honey. When he said the service was done, I asked him: "Really? So you will never be back to visit us?". And he said: "No. Why I come back and visit? What else do you need me do?". And I smiled. The kind of universal smile only a fag can give a straight guy -- as if saying: honey, consider your dick sucked already.

He pulled it out of his pants, I sucked that motherfucker like it was the Intifada, honey. He came quickly in my mouth as he pinched my nipples (human contact, also a perk one can indulge in when on non-American soil). We came out of storage, I paid him for his services with my boss's credit card and he kissed me on the cheek. Like he wasn't ashamed. Like he wanted more. So hopefully I will accidentally be locked out of my apartment sometime soon.

20 Hottest Brazilian Men 2007

by Diego

What is effortlessly hot, naturally muscular, absurdly butch and have a penchant for fucking anything that moves? That's right, the Brazilians. Those blessed souls that have a penchant for not discriminating between a pussy and an asshole, a chick and a fag, a tranny and a hen. By the way, the term "hot Brazilian men" may seem like a redundancy. But we'll take it. And one of Brazil's only gay magazine, G, just published a list of the 20 Sexiest Men in Brazil 2007. Unlike American lists of "sexiest people", this is one that features real-looking men you would actually see at any given corner in Brazil, not airbrushed simulacra. They are actors, models, reality TV "stars", musicians and TV reporters. And they carry the raw, organic, gritty, rugged, over-masculine kind of beauty one tends to find below the Equator. Have fun. This is enough masturbation material for a few days. And if you grow specially fond of some of them you can always google-image their names. My faves are numbers 15 (whom I saw in person once in 1996 at a beach in Rio -- most amazing body ever), 26 (starred in "City of God") and 20 (trust me, the best pecs a man can be blessed with). Number 17 is a total faggot by the way.
Click here for the list.

Below you can see photos of Xanddy (pronounced as Shahn-Dji), the Brazilian pop singer, who should have definitely made it to the list. If you are 6 foot 5, have those ginormous biceps, have endured hunger and Brazilian drought and are under the impression that if you top a faggot you are still 100% straight (average Brazilian mentality, by the way) -- you can marry me anytime.

Post-Gangbang Detox: Seeking Celibacy

by Diego

I'm sorry, but if you lived in New York City and could have any kind of man (gay or straight) all up in your butt in less than 6 mouse clicks you would be overdosing too. And, then, after months of little sleep, no time to think and 275 cocks later your body would tell you to stop before it's too late.

That's what happened to little me, so I decided to quit anonymous cock-sucking cold turkey. Like a virgin, bitches. I suppose straight cock is a bottom's cocaine, and in lieu of sex addiction rehab the way to go is: delete your manhunt account, delete your adam4adam account, stay away from Craigslist, re-discover the value of friendship and spend a lot of time with your hag.

The most amazing thing about not having sex is the amount of time you have on your hands. The day just seems to have 48 hours when you are not spending 23 hours looking to stuff some good Latino dick up your ass. Now I can spend time exploring my other passions; like reading, watching "Cops" and searching for Paula Abdul interviews on YouTube. And now when my mom calls I don't have to immediately be mad at her for interrupting my gangbang-planning attempts. And when my roommate gets home I don't wish him dead for ruining my multi-racial gangbang plans. I even save money, not having to wash my sheets every other day (though, I confess, I used to sleep on cum-filled sheets for weeks without changing them -- my hag could have gotten pregnant by dozens of different guys in the nights she slept over).

It's been 3 entire weeks and no cock has entered this body of mine. Not only have I not gotten any, I haven't looked for any either, which is the most gratifying part. It's almost like there is a speck of self-love somewhere inside me. Who knew a faggot could love herself?!

Granted, don't get me wrong, but I have not given up masturbation. I've had enough dick up in me where I have enough material to last me a few decades. I just re-hash and recycle old and not-so-old memories of tatted up Bronx thugs slamming their shit up in my coochie like I was one of their uptown bitch mammas, honey. The possibilities are endless. I suppose a savvy bottom is like a good camel, who builds a reservoir of water inside it and can go for weeks without having to drink water. I have enough gangbang stories to last me through Fall 2027. In the mean time I will save my gay uterus for someone I can get some longevity out of. Someone straight and abusive and ignorant and brutish and blue collar and Brazilian, hopefully. If not, I can keep on jacking off to "Cops", then purge myself watching "Hey, Paula", bitches.

Free Pussy Galore: Gender-Reassignment Surgery For All in Brazil

by Diego

The Health Ministry of Brazil just released a piece of news that will get queens screaming from Rio all the way to No Parking. The country will offer free sex-change operations to any of its citizens that are judged fit to go to the other side. That's like yelling "Free rim jobs" on 8th Avenue. Total pandemonium.

The law passed after federal prosecutors argued that sexual reassignment surgery is covered under the constitution -- which guarantees medical care as a basic right. And here in America all we want is a little paper saying we are married, we can't even get that. Down south they are giving brand new coochies out like chupa chups at the Flag Day parade.

Gay audiences applauded the decision, obviously, but one can smell South American homophobia in the way the Federal Court describes transexuality: "a sexual identity disturbance where individuals need to change their sexual designation or face serious consequences in their lives, including intense suffering, mutilation and suicide.” That's all fun and games, but wording it a "disturbance" reveals a kind of hetero-centric attitude Latin America is known for. If anything, Brazilians may even think gay-ness in general is reduced to a desperate need some men have to become women. Which makes no theoretical sense. On the pragmatic side, however, the more pussy-needy queens will no longer have to move to Europe to be prostitutes in order to save up for their surgery. Bitches can stay right where they are and just get in line. And what a long line it'll be! Next!

Patients must be at least 21 years old and diagnosed as transsexuals with no other personality disorders and must undergo psychological evaluation for at least two years. No word if a rush service is available. So get on it, bitches.

Office Cram Sessions: Head-Swapping Interns!

by Diego

Sex at work may not be as ubiquitous as jacking off, but it's just as hot. And DirtyBoyVideo's new Interns video delivers it. See, we at the Big Gay Apple try to keep things professional. But at DirtyBoyVideo's headquarters they seem to take a different approach. Not ones to repress their sudden cock-sucking urges, "Fuck who you want, when you want" is their motto. Even if that means using up their own office space. Good thing the hidden cameras don't leave much to the imagination these days.

It reminded me of my old temping days. You know, when you first move to New York and make $14 an hour stapling Real Estate forms on Madison Ave. for eight hours straight. You about wanna shoot yourself. Or suck off your co-worker. But then you look out the window and see Bryant Park and you realize there are worse fates than stapling for a living -- if it means inhabiting the cock-abundant island of Manhattan.


You can check out "Office Cram Session", DirtyBoyVideo's Interns Fucking on Their Boss's Desk video, by clicking here and also here. While you are at it, make sure you check out some of their extensive list of hot episodes, including "Paul Plugs a Plastic Pussy" (the inanimate version isn't as gross, you guys!), "Penis PuppetShow!" (great for kids), "East Village Backroom" (a.k.a. my average Friday night) and "Jacking Janitor" (blue collar cock, yum!).

Jose from the Bronx: Pussy Only, Maybe a Twink on The Side!

by Diego

So this was my first attempt to making a porno flick. After years of obscure, self-indulgent, self-importantly lofty, experimental, guerilla-style 16mm-film-work-a-la-Stan-Brakhage under my belt it felt like a relief. All you do is hold the camera and try to hide your boner, right?

Given my art school background, this couldn't just be any old porno. It had to be porno with grit. Porno that both entranced the most primal of human urges but also hinted at something higher. Porno that gave one both a carnal and metaphysical orgasms. Or whatever.

First I was told I had to audition the "talent". To make sure he was an actual person and wouldn't be late or absent for the shoot. No problem. I made sure my roommates were gone (straight people actually work), and had the talent hop on a train from the Bronx down to Soho, where this princess calls home.

His voice on the phone alone made me cream my pants. "I ain't gay or nuttin'", he said, in one of his more eloquent sentences. I'm sorry, but if you are so butch you can barely string words together and you have a huge tattoo covering your entire arm you can marry me right anytime.



From the moment I opened the door for him, he was the sweetest and most professional talent I had ever worked with. It's almost like he was giving me the respect he would give a real girl (which will make me automatically wet). I explained to him how things were to go down and he just nodded, as if saying "Anything you want, faggot, as long as I get my cash by the end of the day."

Turns out you give a straight man a browser with pussy videos on it and your directorial skills can pretty much lay low. He needed no direction. Homeboy knows his pussy and his jacking. All I had to ask for was a little more ass. You know how they need to pretend they don't like anything up in there.

I gave him a beer or two. Half because he needed to loosen up, half because there is nothing hotter than a bottom fetching liquor to his mean top! He said "thanks, babe"!!!! So basically he sees a twinky little faggoty chick-like thing when he looks at me. HOT! Then, he proceeded to Google "nasty pussy" and jerk off to me, completely oblivious to the camera. Click here to see the video of Jose, fresh from the Bronx (hollaaa), avid pussy-eater, occasional faggot-banger, in all of his tattooed glory.

CLICK HERE for the video clip,
"Jose from the Bronx"

Paris, Texas?

by Diego

I am not advising anyone to do it like I do. But I have this tendency of going the extra mile for guys who OBVIOUSLY are impossible to last. You can be a perfect guy living a few blocks from me and I probably won't even text you once a day. But tell me you are moving to San Diego in two weeks and I will automatically be head over heels. Tell me you are married, I will be in love instantenously. Tell me you are being drafted to Irak, getting your Master's in Japan or backpacking through the Balkans for the next 5 years and I will immediately think marriage, and kids, and parental introductions and Upper West Side brownstones.

There is something about the impossible that gets my urges for sex and love to peak. So when I met Justin a couple months ago at a local bar (i.e. Manhunt) and he told me he was moving back to Texas for a while, there was no turning back. As much as I tried to be rational about it, something in me knew right away I was about to fall in love. Or at least make myself believe he was the one to have. Simply because I so obviously couldn't have him.

So we made love, drank Dean & Deluca coffee and watched American Idol reruns for three nights and three days. The next day he disappeared and I wanted to die. A day later he turned up saying his phone had died (i.e. he was hooking up with some other hotter Latino bottom) and he had had to go to the emergency room due to a uniranary tract infection (i.e. gonnorhea). If you aren't me you would say "fuck off". But since I am me, I said "ok, fine" and took him back for the remaining 24 hours before he had to fly back to Bushland.

For the next several weeks we texted back and forth and pretended we were ever going to see each other. We pretended we were being monogamous and that our parents would one day meet and he would get me pregnant with a baby as blond as him.

Turns out I actually do believe in crazy love affairs. I am aware that in America people's idea of love is more like a stage or business transaction: something you get over with so you can stop looking. But after living in Europe I also know humans are capable of mad cinematic love stories. So I book a ticket to fucking Houston, Texas to see him. He probably didn't believe someone would be this crazy. Someone in American soil who followed their desires? Who knew.

He lives with his parents so I have to book a hotel too (i.e. Motel 8). When I get there it's awkward for five minutes and then we go back to making love, watching "Hannah Montana" (white people have the worst taste!) and listening to comedy radioon XM (wtf). He eats me out like it's pussy and never even touches my dick -- both major pre-requisites. He is also pretty racist, which is kinda hot if you don't think too much about it. The kind of guy who sees nothing wrong with drinking and driving ("I hold my liquor really well") or domestic violence (hot!). It all feels like a refreshing breather from overwhelming Manhattan. But a fag can only eat so much hash browns and see so many miles of Highways punctuated by Costcos.

While getting to know someone you don't is often a priceless experience, New York does something really perverse to someone's mind. Like fucking opium, you can only go without it for half a weekend. After that it's withdrawal time.

He is white so when we say goodbye there are no tears nor promises of longevity. He basically pushes off of his truck so that he doesn't get a ticket. Which is fine, I guess a faggot likes it like that. An ellusive male figure who rejects them as much as they don't. Like our dads. And all men that came after.

For more Diego blogs, click here.

From Boys to Men: the experienced pound the innocent at MenOver30.com

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Girls Who Like Boys Who Are Girls?

by Diego

McNally Robinson Bookstore (on Prince St., between Mulberry and Mott St. in NoLiTa) hosted a reading of "Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys: True Tales of Love, Lust, and Friendship Between Straight Women and Gay Men" on Thursday, July 26. The collection includes anecdotes by both fags and hags from various generations. Four of the many authors read part of their essays, which ranged from obtuse observations of awkward High School existence (yawn) to melancholy tales of being young and lost and ridiculously in love in the 90s (remember that?). One highlight when it comes to hilarious lines coming from a hag's mouth was: "I didn't wanna, like, swallow it, so I had to transfer it to the mattress."

Another highlight of the evening was one of the stories read by a fashionista fag hag (the co-founder of Gawker.com). Her piece, overflowing with David Sedaris-esque wit, explored life "before the gays", when she grew up in rural Alabama and without a fag to call her own.

But the truth is, it's hard to even remember exactly what these people read. As much as one must appreciate the fact that the relationship between hags and fags is being explored, it's also inevitable to notice the degree of superficiality with which the issue is being treated. Yes, gay men make for great shopping alibis, and hags are funny and insecure and just as slutty as gay men are -- which may give them all a little solace. But whatever happened to thinking about what really lays underneath the fun and glitter? Who can handle one more coming-out story set in rural Iowa, involving a laundry-folding mother and a truck-driving father? And "Will and Grace" comments just aren't funny anymore. The show has been as dead as dial-up for a good five years.

The whole "coming out struggle" and "having a gay best friend is so cute" thing had it's rise in the 90s. A decade later, it really seems obsolete to be regurgitating the cliches. What we need is a deeper philosophical curiosity, instead of being caught up in the "fun-obsessed" flatness of celebrity-hetero-ism. If one doesn't have fundamental metaphysical questions to investigate, maybe one can grant oneself the right to check PerezHilton all day and rehash drunken stupor anecdotes over happy hour five days a week. But if one's gay -- and, thefore, has a deformed and incomplete sense of identity -- then one should be devoted to more meaningful literary pursuits.

I'm not really sure what we gain as individuals or as a community by consuming stories of how much fun it is to hang out at the mall flaming out together. I am sure "Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys" has much more than just these anecdotes of hollow gay fun, but from the reading, it also showed little interest in finding out the whys and becauses. It seemed more invested in the celebration of the masking of our problems (via "fabulousness"), than in what really moves us, disturbs us and defines us.

I understand everybody needs to make their buck, but it may be wise to leave that kind of entertainment for cyberspace and safeguard literature as a place for nobler pursuits.

Either way, you can click here to buy the book.

http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

Week in Review: The Construction Worker Is Mine!

by Diego

Uh, so I just got this phone call -- blocked number, of course -- from a girl. Which is
strange enough. If it's past 10pm and my hag is asleep, ain't no girl about to call me, trust me. I pick up and first thing I hear is: "So tell me, Diego, are you gay, bi, trans?"

What?

If this was a guy's voice, I'd answer it. Even if I had no idea who the guy was. I mean, most likely it would have been a long-lost trick. And if, at the time, I gave him my number, then, I'm sure he'd passed my litmus test (which is basically "Are you mostly straight? Cool, bring it on").

But a girl's voice? Honey, you ain't getting nothing from me. I asked "Who is this?". Twice. Until I realized "The fuck do I care?". She isn't fucking me, so there is no reason for me to waste my time with her illusive ghost-like presence on the other line. I hang up on her and she calls right back. Are you stupid? You block your number again and you think I'm still gonna pick up?

Now I realize it is most likely the girlfriend of one of my straight tricks from the Bronx, who sneaked into their email account or phone book and is trying to make justice with her own hands. Honey, I'm sorry, I am not responsible for your lack of cock-sucking skills. Deal with your man, leave his crossdressing Manhattan fags alone.

It would be funny though if she found my address and came knocking on my door asking for explanations, like only a hot-headed Dominican girl would. Catfight! Hot! Specially because my Pakistani roommate's entire family is currently visiting. They are devout Muslims who told me that "this thing that I do" (being a faggot) is "big sin in Pakistan, we punish with throwing little stone". Ouch.

Anyway, they would certainly be rather befuddled if some random mami from Queens stormed into the apartment accusing me of stealing her 6-foot-4, inked up, construction working Puerto Rican man from her.

But then again, maybe the Pakistanis wouldn't be that shocked. They were telling me about this tribe in the northwestern part of the country, by the Himalayans, the Pathans, where the men are known for being gay. "I mean, not gay, they do it to small boy". Oh, okay, so like tops. Or any given straight Brazilian guy.


For more blogs by Diego, click right here.

StraightBoysFucking.com: Hetero Cock for Gay Boys to Watch!

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STDs: Which One Are You?

by Diego

Don't you just love it when you get an email from some guy saying: "Hi, it's Sammy, what's up tonight?". Excuse me? It's who? And then you trace it back and you find that the last time you communicated with this online trick was 4 months ago. So Sammy actually expects you to remember who he is? Even if you had sucked Sammy off you wouldn't remember who he was. But you two haven't even met. In fact, you've only exchanged a couple of emails, but it was 2 in the morning on a Tuesday and you guys decided to take a "rain check" -- gay code for "I'll never see you again ever".

Emails like Sammy's are just rude. Like a straight nurse asking you "How many partners have you had in the past 6 months?". Excuse me? Haven't really learned how to count to infinity yet, mam. What the fuck? Which fag actually counts? Are straight people so sexually miserable they can count on their fingers the amount of cock they've sucked throughout six entire months?

And, then, if you decide to guess a number (ie. lie, subtracting 36 guys or more), they also expect your figures to be under half a dozen or something. These people need to be re-trained, I'm sorry. You do not deal with gay sexuality in a clinical setting the same way you deal with straights. It's like apples and oranges. Or nuns and hookers. Or Brits and Brazilians.

Anyway, this brings me to the original reason for being of this post: STD testing. If you have nearly as much sex as I do, you should also be visiting your local STD Clinic as often as I do too. I know it's scary and all. It's like going to Target: you know you will get out of there with something. Crabs if you're really lucky, gonorrhea if you're medium lucky, herpes if this is not your day, and we all know which one if you've been reaaally bad. In fact, that's the thing, you never know. So even if you haven't been reaaally bad, you could come out HIV-positive, right? And what does "being bad" mean, anyway? You swallowed a couple of times? You barebacked with a boyfriend, or two, or three, or nine? You let a Craigslist trick "loosen you up" bare, but he never came in you? You never even barebacked, but the condom broke once. Or maybe it didn't, and you're still freaked out?

The truth is being gay is a neurotic affair. It never feels like real sex, there's always that latex wall in the middle. And if it does feel real, it's not even worth it, because we will likely be"punished" by some nasty STD later. So might as well just fucking settle, move to Long Island and raise a couple of Golden Retrievers and a few Asian babies and call it a life?

Well, in the meantime, getting tested is the least you can do. Below you will find every single FREE STD Clinic in the New York City area. My fave is the Chelsea one (on 9th Avenue), because it's the only one I've ever been and I'm against going north of 28th street -- there's just nothing to do (you can import Harlem boys without having to go anywhere -- they always travel).

The Chelsea Clinic recently got rid of their bulky 1989 TV set and got a plasma-like one for their main waiting room. But the DVD is still the same, "Philadelphia" every day, all day long. Maybe it's time we make a new AIDS movie, anyone?

You take a number, fill out this form, sit down and wait for some matter-of-fact large black woman to call you out. On a good day (Tuesday at 10 a.m.), it'll take only 15 minutes, but during peak hours (see, it's like the gym) expect a 1 hour wait.

Then, she'll ask you why you're there. You can get tested for any STD or HIV, or everything at once. The first time takes longer, but once you've become a regular, you're out of there very quick. They give you a folder (free!) with a testing tube in it and some other stuff. You go to the 2nd floor, drop off the folder and wait. Between 10 minutes to 1 hour and a half.

The clientele is very mixed: from tex-messaging teenage girls to Wall Street types. It's less awkward than you'd think. It's New York City, so you're not gonna know anyone there, trust me. This is the worst part because you have to endure this particularly awful educational video about people discovering their HIV status. And you have to watch the whole thing twice: once in English and once in Spanish. Of course all the "actors" in the video are minorities, which is fine. But most of the acting is pretty horrific (except for this one black girl with a hat on), but one of the guys is pretty hot -- and he turns out to be negative in the video too.

When they call your name they hand you a cup for urine samples and explain how to do it in groups. So it's you and like five other kids with their own urine cups in hand listening to the Asian nurse. The nurses scream numbers out all the time, real loudly, like this was their momma's house. It totally seems like they are just belting out random numbers just to entertain themselves and fuck with our heads. A random viewer could even take the whole thing for an experimental performance piece at The Kitchen. Thirty Seven. Thirty Nine. Five Hundred. Letter B. Letter A. Five M. What? Is there a system here?

Anyway, you will then bend over and get a q-tip up your ass and then get your blood drawn. Wait a week or two to call for the results and good luck, bitch.

Manhattan

Central Harlem
2238 Fifth Avenue (137th Street)
New York, NY 10037
Travel Information: #2 train to 135th Street
Map

• STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, Hepatitis C screening for high risk patients, & HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
  Monday thru Friday, 8:30 a.m. - 4:00 p.m.
  Saturday, 8:30 a.m. — 12:00 p.m.
  (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00 P.M. EVERY THIRD FRIDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)

East Harlem
158 East 115th Street (off Lexington Avenue)
New York, NY 10029
Travel Information: #6 train to 116th Street
Map

• Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday
  8:30am to 4:00pm
  HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing only
• Monday and Friday — "NO DOCTOR SERVICES"
  8:30am to 4:00pm
  (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY THIRD FRIDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)

Chelsea
303 Ninth Avenue (28th Street)
New York, NY 10001
Travel Information: C or E trains to 23rd Street or #1 or #9 to 28th Street
Map

• STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B Vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, Hepatitis C screening for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
  Monday thru Friday — 8:30am to 4:00pm (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY FIRST WEDNESDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
  Saturday, 8:30 a.m. — 12:00 p.m.

Riverside
160 West 100th Street (between Columbus/Amsterdam)
New York, NY 10025
Travel Information: #1, #9, B, C, to 96th Street
Map

• STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, Hepatitis C screening for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
  Monday thru Friday — 8:30am to 4:00pm (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY THIRD WEDNESDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
• NOTE: Staff meeting changed from June 20th and will take place on Friday June 8th. Clinic will close at 12 noon on WEDNESDAY JUNE 8th for staff training.

Bronx

Morrisania
1309 Fulton Avenue (E 169th Street off 3rd Ave)
Bronx, NY 10456
Travel Information: #55 or #15 bus to 169th Street/3rd Avenue
Map

• STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, Hepatitis C screening for high risk patients & HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
  Monday thru Friday — 8:30am-4:00pm (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY SECOND FRIDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
  

Staten Island

Richmond
51 Stuyvesant Place (Wall Street)
Staten Island, NY 10301
Map

• Thursday 8:30am to 4:00pm
  STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid testing.
• Monday,Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday "-NO DOCTOR SERVICES"
  8:30am to 4:00pm (INTAKE CLOSES AT 11:00PM EVERY LAST FRIDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
  HIV Counseling and Rapid HIV Testing only.

Brooklyn

Crown Heights

The Crown Heights clinic is temporarily closed due to renovation. Relocated to Bushwick:

Bushwick Clinic
335 Central Avenue (between Linden St and Grove St)
Brooklyn, NY 11221
Map

STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, Hepatitis C screening for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
Monday thru Friday – 8:30am to 4:00pm (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY LAST WEDNESDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)

Travel Direction to Bushwick Clinic
By Bus: The # 46, at Utica Ave. bus, to Gates Avenue. Change for the # 52 at Gates and travel East to Central Ave. Walk on Central Ave., against the traffic, until you reach 335 Central Ave.

By Bus: The # 44 Nostrand Ave bus to Gates. Take the Gates Ave.# 52 bus to Central Ave.

To get to this Clinic from Crown Heights:
Walk to Utica Ave. and take the #46 bus to Gates. Change at Gates and take the # 52 to Central

Fort Greene (NOTE: The clinic will close at 2:00pm on 12/19/06)
295 Flatbush Ave. Extension 2nd Flr.
Brooklyn, NY 11201
Travel Information:
#2, #3, #5 trains to Nevins Avenue
N, R, D trains to Dekalb Avenue
Map

• STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
  Monday thru Friday — 8:30-4:00 (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY LAST FRIDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
  Saturday, 8:30 a.m. — 12:00 p.m.

Queens

Corona
34-33 Junction Blvd. (Roosevelt/Northern)
Jackson Heights, NY 11372
Travel Information: #7 train to Junction Blvd.; #72 bus to 35th Avenue
Map

• Tuesday and Friday
  8:30am to 4:00pm
  STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing
• Monday, Wednesday and Thursday -- "NO DOCTOR SERVICES"
  8:30am to 4:00pm (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY LAST THURSDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
  HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing only

Jamaica
90-37 Parsons Blvd. 1st Flr. (off Jamaica Ave.)
Jamaica, NY 11432
Travel Information: E, S, J train to Parsons Blvd.
Map

• STD Services, Emergency Contraception, Hepatitis B vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine for high risk patients, Hepatitis C screening for high risk patients, HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing:
  Monday thru Friday — 8:30 - 4:00 (INTAKE CLOSES AT 12:00PM EVERY LAST THURSDAY OF EACH MONTH FOR MANDATORY STAFF MEETING)
  Saturday, 8:30 a.m. — 12:00 p.m.

Rockaway
(Operated by Joseph P. Addabbo Health Center)
67-19 Rockaway Beach Blvd. (Addabbo Health Center)
Queens, NY 11692
Travel Information: A train to Beach 67th.
Map

• STD Services & Confidential HIV Counseling and Rapid Testing
  Monday thru Friday — 9:00-5:00
  Please note: Addabbo Health Center is not a DOHMH site, and may charge for emergency contraception.

For more information on AIDS/HIV and other Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Call 311.

For more blogs by Diego, click right here.

I'm Not Bi, I'm Brazilian

by Diego

One would think that staying out of the gay world one would be immune to "identity theater". You know, pretending you are one thing when you really another. Say, writing on your Manhunt profile you are a "Top/Vers", when in reality the first thing you do is spread your legs wide open the minute somebody touches you. Or saying you are "str8-acting" when the only straight thing about you is the fact that you are not wearing a skirt. Or saying you are "safe only", unless people say they're neg!

Anyway, I was being a tranny for Craigslist tricks this week (surprise!), and this Hispanic guy came to my place from Sheepshead Bay or somewhere ridiculous like that. His name was Jose and he was a construction worker, so I assumed he was a total top. He said my ass was so hot "it's hot enough to eat, mami". I'm sorry, if you use the word "mami" and you aren't a total top, you should be sued for false advertisement.

Jose had a thick Brooklyn accent, one of those organically muscular bodies and a 9.5'' Puerto Rican dick. And if you are familiar with Puerto Rican dick I don't need to tell you that those things are massive. These bulky pieces of meat that seem to not even waste their time having a head. It's just this thick brick of a cock, born to do a faggot a lot damage.

With all those attributes, how could I suspect this man was not an uber-straight-guy? Those thuggish guys who are so straight, so ghetto, so hot, that they can't help but bone faggots. Not out of faggotry, just out of an overflowing sexuality. Out of their own Latin-ness. It's like one of my last week's trick said: "I'm not bi, I'm Brazilian".

Anyway, Jose fucked my mouth good, but by the time his Puerto Rican dick got limp (a sign that I was probably the 4th tranny he banged that night), he had already confessed that he a) used to escort, b) sometimes dressed like a girl himself (WTF?) and c) Only ate out shaved ass.

I'm sorry, buddy, but I'm not nicking myself in the butt just so I can have some of your STD-ridden Puerto Rican tongue. And you should have disclosed your secret cross-dressing desires way before you crossed the Brooklyn bridge, fool. What makes these guys think that we are compatible? It's not like my ads don't say "101% Bottom Slut CD Whore". What part of that sentence says "into crossdressing males as well"?

In the end -- his dick limp, my hopes for a New Jersey civil union broken -- I still had to ask: "You prefer to top or to bottom?". I was totally fishing for "I prefer to top, of course!", just so I could at least justify having spent 11 and a half hours posting on Craigslist to finally get some sort of Latino cock down my throat. And the motherfucker had the urge to say: "I think I prefer to bottom. I just love the feeling, you know?"

Yes, I do know! Boy, do I know it. And that's exactly the problem, be-atch!

For more blogs by Diego, click here.

Marched in the Pride Parade, and my groin muscles are still hurting

by Sean

If you're gay and you know it, take a drink of that screwdriver in a Vitamin Water bottle.



I'm starting to catch on! I thought everybody just REALLY liked Vitamin Water, but that boy came up to me and said, "You look hot."

"Thanks," I replied. "I love your pants. Those strings are really cute. Gives me something to grab onto, you know?"

"No, no." He winked at me the way only a black man can wink, "You're lookin' kinda shiny. Here, have a drink."

---

If you're gay and you know it, grab that bicycle seat like it's your throbbing member.



He knows exactly what I want. I just wish he would have sat up straight and stuck his tits out. But he's totally been in porn before.

Or at least the J.C. Pennies catalog. (Joke stolen from my boss, Rich.)

I tried to catch him. I really did.

---

If you're gay and you know it, wear that cowboy hat like you mean it!



Is the naked cowboy I heard about upstate on the news? No, I hear he's not gay. This man is from West New York, where the pizza is still good and the rent is only a little bit cheaper. Or that's what he tells me, anyways.

Well, he's closer to Texas than I am, so who am I to argue?

---

If you're ga - *sound of a needle scratching off a record*



Wait a minute! What's an ex-con doing selling us pride flags for 10 bucks a pop!? This asshole was going up and down the street telling us that we gotta represent. Then he'd go to the cops and loudly tell them how much he values and desires the female genitalia.

I took that picture of him and told him that he was going to be in gay porn. Also, I resized the photo to be very small, to reflect his personality.

Tranny Binge: Sexual Rehab is for Faggots!

by Diego

This whole "dress like a tranny/post on Craigslist/get fucked by copious amounts of real straight dick" thing is akin to Meth binges. I swear. I haven't slept for two days. I skipped my psychoanalysis session and was late for work, I haven't called my hag for an entire day and I've eaten maybe twice all week. One just can't stop posting when the more you post, the more real hetero cock is offered to you on a silver platter.

I am almost running out of foundation too. And I already had to take a pair of scissors to my tube lip gloss to use up the rest of it. Silly me, telling the Sephora lady that it was not like I was gonna be using the make up every single week.

By now I can do it with my eyes closed. Granted there are clumps of powder on certain areas of my face at times. But guys don't really care. They think you are "so passable" with the littlest effort. I don't even bother to shave my chest anymore. Only when it is long enough to make my cleavage look monstrous.


Highlight tricks of the week:

1. The black rapper who came in with a pocket-size bottle of Bacardi in his hand at 9 in the morning. His answering machine had his kid saying "Leave my daddy a message" too. And the dude was only like 19.

2. The white guy who came over completely intoxicated, but at least kept referring to me as a she as if there wasn't even a question about the clarity of my gender.

3. The millions of guys who say they "only do it raw if they know the person is clean". Hahaha. 'Cause we've always heard someone say "Actually, I am NOT clean".

4. The 40-year-old Wall Street married guy who came over for a "lunch gangbang" and told me I wasn't "passable" enough, but then added: "But now that I'm already here..." Next thing you know, I had his 9-incher attached to my tonsils.

5. The sweetest Puerto Rican guy who made out with me like he was in love, but suffocated me, smacked me and immobilized me like a murderer when it actually came time to fuck. Too bad he actually sucked my dick (as if he was chewing on a pussy though). I was already thinking marriage, but then he turned around and expected me to fuck him. Hell to the naw!

I am hoping I will hit rock bottom this weekend, with an uninterrupted 96-hour tranny sex spree, and call it quits. Though having sex with a gender you actually lust for is extremely rejuvenating. The idea of having to settle for the "least faggie" gay versatile/top is as appealing to me as...ass. Not exactly on my Moleskin calendar!

It is self-destructive though. Because you waste time that could be spent reading amazing books, bonding with your friends and making fun of your fag hag. Plus, the whole STD factor. But it is so hard to give up what you always wanted to have and never could, once you finally get it: the straight male gaze. Perhaps the real challenge is not giving it up, but having it in moderate doses. Being choosy. Maybe if I lived in fucking Iowa or Wisconsin or whatever, I would. But New York just has too many haute couture cock prominently displayed at every corner, or mouse click. And a tranny is only human!

For more Diego blogs, click right here.