Michael Buble is an Angel and a Message for Ley
I’m about four years too late to be a fan of Michael Buble but lucky for me he’s still around. The man is an angel. I mean, as a singer, his voice, it’s a God-send. Maybe he cheats on his girlfriend or throws paper cups on the sidewalk or calls black people "niggers" but his voice is definitely from heaven. Proof: I put on a Michael Buble CD on the player on a usually turbulent Saturday morning — what with my mom preparing the laundry, my dad cleaning the car, me wrestling Cojie out of bed — and at the cue of "Come Fly With Me", everybody just kind of dials down. We all settle on the couch, tapping our feet, swaying our heads, my parents reminiscing about Frank Sinatra. And for the rest of the CD, it’s a nice, quiet time.
And for the romantic in you, look up "That’s All". If a man sings that to me the way Michael Buble does, I will give him my ATM.
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This message is for my fashion designer friend in Folded & Hung. Hoy, Ley. Your clothes fit me now. Where’s that discount card? 
