So, I’m a tad on the superstitious side. Ok, maybe that’s a bit of an understatement:
I don’t walk by pennies (heads up) and not pick it up because I think it might bring me bad luck.
You would never catch me sitting in the 13th row of a plane or flying on the 13th and liking it.
I have to kiss my hand and touch the ceiling when I drive through a yellow light or else I feel like I might have bad luck.
I hold my breathe when I pass cemetaries because it’s suppose to add minutes (or is it seconds?) onto your life.
You won’t see me walking under ladders and you may witness me freak out if I happen to break a mirror.
I hate seeing black cats, I don’t even know what they mean bad luck, death? I don’t know but keep them away.
And I used to get freaked out by Friday the 13th’s. I used to get worried that something super freaky would happen or Jason was going to try to kill me.
And then on October 13, 2000, FRIDAY THE 13TH, something crazy, freaky, weird and unexpected really did happened – I had my first real kiss.
Ever since, I’ve kinda liked Friday the 13th’s.