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New York has been wet. Really wet. And not just because I am so damn sexy.

At least that's what the drag queens were telling me last night.

Yes, drag queens in New York City. Shocking, I know.

About seven alleged ladies were smoking outside a gay bar in New York's Lower East Side when yours truly passed by. Not sure if it was my sexy, uh, tan shirt or my equally sexy blue Levis, but these ladies immediately started a'hooting and a'hollering.

European drag queens generally shave their faces if not their armpits.

And, no, they would not be classified as "passable" or "giving a shit." I mean, damn, at least shave before you hit the town, ladies. And tuck 'em back! I thought a no-bulge policy was standard on fake chicks. Take some pride like your heroine, RuPaul.

RuPaul: the proudest drag queen of all with BFF Brad Garrett.

The loudest of said chicks bore a very strong resemblance to Chastity Bono, more recently known as "Chaz" after Sonny and Cher's kid started getting injected with testosterone. This is to say she had very short hair, no makeup and the body of a potato.

Cher and former daughter Chastity Bono in less confusing times.

Actually she looked like Chastity, too, not just Chaz. Homedude definitely got her looks from her daddy. Her mommy Cher was one hot piece of ace. Or at least she was 10-15 plastic surgeries ago. It's tough to keep up.

Speaking of chicks with dicks, it may shock you to know that I used to get accosted regularly by D.C. drag queens when I lived in Washington's Logan Circle neighborhood.

If you're not from the District of Columbia, Logan Circle is not far away, geographically, from the downtown business area AND the White House. This is a way of saying it is one of those neighborhoods "on the rise," according to real estate people and others trying to remove dollars from your wallet.

What this really means is that you will see crack addicts, crackwhores and their business associates -- aka drug dealers and pimps -- on a regular basis. But there will be some white people around AND there are worse neighborhoods AND you're within walking distance of lots of good bars SO what the hell, quit your whining AND enjoy the enhanced opportunities to get drunk AND get laid AND/OR meet lots of hookers.

Now, right out of college, I actually wore a suit every day to work. And combine the business attire with my innocent baby-face and it was little wonder that tranny hookers were drawn to me like Eddie Murphy to bad career decisions. Or tranny hookers.

Something about me must scream "he so horny" or "poor eyesight." At least that's what I tell myself.

So on my early morning walks to work I frequently found myself saying "no" to rather large, broad-shouldered transvestites who offered to "show me a good time" and "relax me."

Inevitably I responded with "Uh, no thanks, dude."

Tranny hookers trying to "gets paid."

Okay, I did not say "dude." I would have said "dude" but for the fear of getting beaten down by one of these linebackers in tight pink, aqua and yellow skin-tight dresses.

It's pretty unlikely my health insurance would have covered the years of psychological therapy such a beatdown would require. If I had insurance.