She's a big-time Editor.

I know my regular readers love it when I write about my love life, so with that in mind, I bring you this, my latest offering.

Liz Hancock is an utterly stunning, tall, blonde beauty editor for i-D magazine.

But she wasn't always that way.

Once upon a time in New Zealand, she was an utterly stunning, tall, blonde ballet dancer.

Thing was, and I know this will be impossible for you guys to believe, but I was a geek.

I never had a girlfriend, I worked from 7.30 in the mornings doing an apprenticeship to become a master chessemaker.

I smelled like cheese, all the damn time.

But at night, I would put on my best pink shirt and acid wash blue jeans, strap on an electric guitar, and play in bands, or for the local Paraparaumu theatre group, the "Coasters".

And it is there that I got to talk to Liz, during a production of god-knows-what, way-back-when.

She was totally unpretentious, she always had a rosy glow to her cheeks, she was unfeasibly perfect, and every guy I know wanted desperately to make her fall in love with them.

And for some reason, even though I was the worlds biggest geek ever, she would stop and chat to me whenever she was near.

So of course I got the wrong idea.

It was her birthday, and it was a typically rainy and blustery southern evening.

I had made her an ice cream cake in the shape of Garfield, complete with orange frosting stripes.

On my way from the train station to her house, the rain came up and soaked the cake box, and eventually, soaked the cake too.

It was ruined.

I don't know if you know what it's like, to have a door open in front of you, and to be confronted with effortless and impossible perfection, but I do.

And to have to hand over a soaked box of slop (with orange stripes) to this vision?

Crushing.

But Liz didn't care. She loves ice-cream, and thought it was cute. It's the thought that counts, right?

And then she said "I want you to come up to my room, and make love to me. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I can't wait any longer. Knifey - I need you now!

Actually, no she didn't.

She kinda swivelled uncomfortably on the balls of her feet (ballerina), and looked like she was gonna go wee-wee in her pants.

And she told me how, she thinks I've got the wrong idea, and I'm a swell guy and all, but she really just wants to be friends.

*Total heartbreak*.

And out of all the (2) rejections I have ever faced in my life (just kidding about the 2 part!), I can still feel the sting of it even now.

My face flushed red, and even the cold rain on my way home couldn't cool me down. I even cried. I thought my life was over.

And I went back to my job at the cheese factory, and eventually got fired for having no initiative, and went on the dole, and...ended up in Australia playing on TV to millions of people and generally living like the rock star/guerilla street artist you all know and love today.

Oh, and sex symbol...don't forget that part.

So I'm reading i-D, and there's her picture in the A-Z of future talent.
She's starting up a new magazine called Project-Magazine, and...oh look! There's her email address!

I'm gonna send her a message, and congratulate her on getting married and ask her if she enjoyed the garfield cake.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.