I pimp, therefore I am. Or: have you met my cousin Tina?

Every now and then I feel compelled to share some real-life person that actually has a name. You know, as opposed to those nameless creatures from the hazy great beyond of my personal life that I write cryptic prose-poems about? Right, yeah. Well, this is one of those posts that includes an actual, documented, living, breathing human being that I know, and whose name I will actually divulge.

And not only do I divulge them name, but I encourage you to remember it. And not only that! (This should probably be where I throw in the six extra steak knives for free.) I urge you to seek her out elsewhere in the ether of cyberspace. Find out as much as you can about her! And indeed, be her friend. Are you ready?

Tina Mancusi.

Oh yeah. And she's my cousin.

Now, if I were really a publicity pimp, I'd have written:

The name: Tina Mancusi
The CD: Rivington Hotel
Buy it now.

But how smarmy is that? And we all know how Jill hates smarmy.

Oh we don't? Well, we will soon. But that's a story for a different day. Anyway, back to Cousin Tina. She's a hottie, no?

You may recall a self-portait I took a few weeks ago, in an unfamiliar bathroom, on four hours' sleep, with possibly a bit of a hangover. Yes. That one. That's the morning after I began attempting to write publicity materials to promote Tina's new CD. Alas, there was much wine and ogling of photos of attractive internet personages and very little productivity on my part. The problem (besides how easy it is to procrastinate when there are hot guys to be perved upon) is this: I love music, but I don't regularly write about it.

Hell, I spent six years studying theater and I still bang my head against the table attempting to come up with the right words to explain that.

And also: Cousin Tina is a bit eclectic. There's the pop/rock "Man of the Year", my new dancing around the house in my undies favorite (and I'm not just saying that because she's my cousin--listen to it on GarageBand.com and tell me if you don't move some part of you). But that's not representative of the CD. In fact, her sound is a melange of Americana. Someone help me articulate it!

She gets bluesy with two Tom Waits covers (which, of course, can't be posted on the internet). The lyrics she writes are strongly visual, and her signature tracks are these driving, sultry rock ballads.

The title track, "Rivington Hotel" boasts one of my favorite song lyrics, possibly ever. Are you ready for it?

"The best part of you, baby, just ran right down my leg."

Oh yeah. How could you not love a chick who has the balls to write that?

And then perform it live all over New York City? Okay, maybe some of you boys didn't appreciate that so much. But you'll appreciate her delivery if you listen.

"Dusted" (also on Garage Band.com) calls to mind--if I may be so bold--what might happen if someone set one of my cryptic posts to music. (Listen to that one and there will be no doubt in your mind that she and I are related.)

My absolute favorites, though, are "Visions" (sometimes I fall for those songs that all-but-demand you to sing along) and "High Hard Bone". Yeah, it means what you think it means. This one was actually written by a male friend of hers, and the narrator "should be" a man. Pah! "Should be", our sweet asses.

So, loyal readers and music-maniacs, what's the point here? Of course I'm asking you to check her out. (The music, dudes. Not just her legs.)

Give her a listen and rating on GarageBand.com. Say hi on her MySpace. I've already pimped the CD above. And if you have some words to help me articulate, let me know! Tina and I shall drink a toast to your assistance.

Oh, and if you know of any indie record labels searching for a downtown-rock-chick-chic type who owns her vocal poetry and can put it out there live, do us a favor and send them our way, will ya? Thanks.

And Tina? This means you can't call you-know-who and tell him you-know-what.