A month ago, on Tuesday, Feb. 5, I thought the only important thing going on in the world was Super Tuesday and the race for delegates in the Democratic and Republican presidential primaries.

Silly me.

It turns out that same week was Chinese New Year.

My reminder? My globe-trotting friend Amber, who now lives in Taiwan, posted a new blog that same day with the headline: “Happy Chinese New Year!”

Oops.

That same night, two days before the actual Chinese New Year, and with Super Tuesday results blaring on the TV, I was in my home office in Arizona, technolusting after a new BlackBerry.

I’m eyeing this one!

My current boring Motorola Razr works fine as a phone. But it doesn’t let me check and send email while I’m out and about. I’m not sure if I really need to be that connected, but it’s all about instant gratification, dammit.

Mr. Razr phone, you were oh-so-cool two years ago. But… it’s no longer working out between us. I’m sorry.

I looked at my instant messaging window and saw my BlackBerry-toting cousin Doug online, so I pinged him.

“Dude,” I wrote, “I’m lusting after a BlackBerry. Which one should I get?”

A minute later he answered back. “The Curve. It’s good. Nice and easy,” he wrote back. “I’m texting you on it right now. It’s cheap now, too! Like $100.”

A minute later, he wrote again: “BTW… Family says hi…We’re eating crab as we speak.”

Oh… crap!

My family traditionally celebrates Chinese New Year with a week’s worth of dinners at grandma’s house in San Francisco, where grandma cooks up a lot of traditional food that we only see once a year. But like any typical Wong family gathering, she and my uncle always spice it up with an insane amount of delicious seafood.

I was suddenly flooded with images of Dungeness crab, lobster, crawdads, oysters and clams. Screw the BlackBerry! I want some seafood!

I wrote back to my cousin: “F’n A! I always miss the good seafood meals!”

Minutes later, the taunting began.

My brother Dan emailed me a picture of the crab they were eating from his BlackBerry.

“Sigh, crab is almost done. A three-pounder today, too!” he wrote.

I IM’d him back, telling him he was evil.

The next night, the family gathered again for another New Year’s dinner, and this time my sister-in-law got into the act, emailing me this picture from her Apple iPhone.

And then Dan followed up with another picture from his BlackBerry.

Shit! Damn! Fuck! The taunting was unbearable. Not only were they eating great seafood, they all had better cell phones than me!

I desperately needed some Dungeness crab – and fast.

That week, I was planning to donate $100 to my favorite presidential candidate, but instead, I decided to funnel my donation into what I called: my special Chinese New Year Seafood Fund.

The next afternoon, on Chinese New Year, I called up Saigon Pho & Seafood, my favorite Vietnamese restaurant in town, and ordered this beauty: a two-pound “Saigon Special Crab” for $24.

It was delicious.

Two days later, I bought another crab, this time a live two-pounder from the local Asian supermarket for $12. I went home, steamed it, and it, too, was delish.

From my calculations, I still have $64 in my seafood fund. But I’m going to divert that into my “Buy a new BlackBerry Fund.”

I used to complain about the lack of restaurant options after 10 p.m. in Arizona. But it’s partly because we’ve romanticized the Bay Area. We’ve spent a considerable amount of time back home the last few months, and realized – or reacquainted ourselves with the fact – that many Bay Area restaurants close up shop early, too. Upon further reflection, there’s perks to late-night dining in Arizona. We’re always one of the few customers. We get excellent service and the food arrives fast.

I want something in my neighborhood that’s on a smaller scale. Earlier tonight at 11:30 p.m., I was craving a piece of banana cream pie, but I was in my jammies and much too lazy to schlep to my neighborhood diner half a mile away. In times like these, I often wish I could call some kid named Johnny down the block who can come to my rescue. And I’d gladly pay a $5 to $10 delivery fee.

So there you have it: A free idea for an enterprising teen who wants to make some good money on a part-time basis. Your company name can be “24 Hour Johnny,” with the tagline, “Every Neighborhood Needs a Johnny.” (If you’re female, you can be “24 Hour Janie.”) Think of the opportunities! Our neighborhood is full of young parents. They sometimes run out of milk. They might need their lawn mowed. They might even want a piece of pie after midnight!

In the time it took me to write this, the diner has closed. I could have gone there and back and consumed my piece of pie. Instead, I munched on BBQ potato chips, and it didn’t hit the spot.

Where’s 24 Hour Johnny when you need him?