Broos is in a category all his own.

Yesterday he came over to fiddle with my wireless (heh, that sounds somewhat naughty, but then I've been watching Coupling,  and after a couple of episodes, everything sounds naughty).  After an hour or so, he announced that we were leaving.  "To get dinner?" I said, encouraged that he had diagnosed and shot the patient much more quickly than I had.

"No," said he in tones reminscent of my husband.  "To Best Buy."

And then began the Luck of the Goober.  Recall that Rob and I never have a good experience at Best Buy.  Ever.  This night, Broos parked directly in front of the store, stormed the bastion and obtained what looked like the last of their wireless laptop cards.  Before I have time to think, he's at the register shamelessly flirting with the cashier who offers him everything from more gadgets to a free lemonade. 

And then we're off again to Outback where as we drive up, a car is backing out of a stall not five spaces from the restaurant door.  "We can't be this lucky!" I gasp, amazed.  "We're not," said Broos, cruising past the newly opened stall to an empty spot only one away from the door.  "We're this lucky."

If he could bottle and sell whatever it is that provides him the choicest parking wherever we go, he would be a gazillionaire.

After dinner, we came back to my apartment where he fiddled with the new wireless card, and behold!  My network is working again within the hour.  This morning, I did have to jumpstart the laptop to get it to see the wireless, but the desktop hooked up to it just fine. 

And so, thank you, Broos, for getting this all hooked up.  My connection hasn't gone up and down since you smacked it last night.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!