Dear Ann Landers,
'm a blue-eyed brunette raised on a farm near Alpena, Michigan. I came to Detroit, got a job as a secretary, and fell in love with a prominent executive in the auto industry. Greg was evasive about where he lived, but I never pushed it. Yesterday he telephoned to say he had the flu and couldn't keep our date. I decided to surprise him with a honey and lemon syrup my grandmother used to make. I got his address from the office manager. Greg was sick all right, and when he opened the door and saw me, he got a whole lot sicker. The first thing I noticed was a satin housecoat and some ostrich feather bedroom slippers. He said, "I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. That stuff belongs to a sweet kid from Sheboygan who is out of work and needed a place to stay. She'll be out of here tomorrow." I called him a liar and left. When I got home the phone was ringing. He begged me to believe him. Would you?-Egg On My Face

Dear Egg,
Would I believe your big hearted Romeo is play-ing housemother to a busted kid from Sheboygan? No, I would not. And neither should you.