Good luck sending me mixed signals. Most the time I can’t even understand the direct ones.

Whenever I’m sad, you’re there. Whenever I have problems, you’re there. Whenever I lose control, you’re there. Let’s face it, you are bad luck.

I don’t like violence, but I don’t mind if I get hit by luck.

At my age, “getting lucky” means walking into a room and remembering what you came in there for.

Three out of five times, my intuition is right. Not in casinos, though.

I wonder if this is all happening because I opened that umbrella inside.

Lucky for me, I don’t have enough friends for an intervention.

If my wife doesn’t win anything on this $1 scratch ticket, it’s going to go down as one of the worst anniversary gifts ever.

Is my life this bad because I didn’t forward that email to 15 people back in 2007?

An escape room, but it’s a bean bag chair in a hammock on a water bed in a bouncy house and you’re over 40. Good luck!

My doctor told me “good luck” and gave me finger guns, so obviously I’m dying.

Painted a big H in my garden to see if I can trap a helicopter. Wish me luck!

I had bad luck with women twice. The first left me, the second stayed.

I’m not superstitious because it brings bad luck.

Fancy restaurants are self-esteem destroyers because good luck not leaving an embarrassing stain on the white table cloth. Ever.