As luck would have it (haha, get it?) Friday the 13th usually treats me pretty well.
Probably because my luck is so abysmal literally every other day of the year. Two negatives make a positive, right? Yeah, that's it.
I adore Friday the 13th. I love black cats, full moons, and thunderstorms. I love tarot cards and crystals and all things spooky besides. It's kinda my thing. I love Friday the 13th and so it should love me back. Right? RIGHT?
Granted, one of my soft-shoe laces did snap today at the dance studio and I got charged for a double at Wendy's when I asked for a single, but I think that's more Just My Luck and not at all related to a superstitious holiday. Never mind the fact that the LAST Friday the 13th, I randomly got a bloody nose in the middle of a crowded restaurant. C O I N C I D E N C E. (Maybe? The evidence is piling against me here.)
FUN FACT: There is a theory that the phrase "Luck of the Irish" is in fact ironic, due to the whole potato famine, emigration, Irish-need-not-apply thing. I believe this to be true as I am just about the unluckiest person on the planet.
FUN FACT #2: I carry two 4-leaf clovers and a 5-leaf clover in my phone case and I STILL have garbage luck.