There they saw the worst terror attack in that country's history, as shooting and bombing attacks killed and wounded hundreds.

News stories say the couple "refused to cut short their holiday" after the Mumbai attack. It's kind of hard not to imagine them as Clark Griswold, screaming "NO! Not this time! We took this f**king vacation and we're going to enjoy it, damn it."

By the way, if there is a support group for "I'm pretty sure I'm living in a series of horrifying yet increasingly unimaginative sequels", they can join Regina Rohde there. She was a student at Columbine High School during the worst school massacre in history, where 12 people were killed. That record was beaten eight years later, during the shootings of 32 students at Virginia Tech... where Rohde was studying as a grad student.

On September 20, 1911, the Olympic collided with a British warship. No one was hurt in that mishap but Violet Jessop decided to move on, to serve on a much bigger, unsinkable ship: the Titanic.

Look how unsinkable!

There she brought not only the same bad fortune but also the captain of the Olympic, one Edward J. Smith. Then there was an iceberg and, well, you've seen that movie. Now, we know what you're thinking. It's hardly bad luck that she was on two boat accidents when it was the same captain both times. Clearly he was the problem, right?

We're not done.

You see, Jessop made it to one of Titanic's lifeboats and could only watch as the world's largest metaphor slipped under the waves, setting the stage for James Cameron's disappointing follow up to True Lies.

Then in 1916, after a short time away from the sea, Jessop signed up to serve as a nurse aboard the Britannic. Sure enough, it floated into a mine and quickly sunk. This time, Jessop's lifeboat didn't get far enough away from the sinking boat, forcing her to jump into the water. Her head klunked in to the keel of the boat but she survived and, for the third time, made it back onto dry land.

Violet Jessop died of congestive heart failure in 1971. She was buried at sea.

Enter Robert Todd Lincoln, son of Abraham Lincoln, whose feet never grew to inhuman proportions but he did manage to gain a certain notoriety, mainly by helping the Grim Reaper pick off a number of American Presidents.

Robert Todd was 21 when his father was assassinated. Later, he carved out his own political career and was rewarded with the Secretary of War post under James Garfield's tenure. In 1881, only four months into the gig, Garfield invited Lincoln on a jaunt to New Jersey. Before either man could step onto the train, Garfield was gunned down, mercifully rescued from a trip to the Garden State.

Death took a holiday for twenty years but would track Lincoln down a third time, in Buffalo, New York. He was there by invitation from the recently re-elected William McKinley, who figured if he had to suffer a few days in Buffalo, he'd take as many poor bastards with him as possible.

Turns out McKinley was the next presidential target on Death's hit-list. While at a speaking engagement, an assassin shot McKinley twice. Lincoln did not personally witness this one, but was in the room and heard the gunshots. McKinley died eight days later from his wounds.

Knowing he was nothing but bad luck for his presidential pals , Lincoln turned down just about every presidential invitation that came his way saying, "...there is a certain fatality about presidential functions when I am present." which is a pleasant way of saying, "Fuck off, already! If I go, you die!"

Unlucky Because:

She got hit by a f**king meteorite.

On November 30, 1954, Ann Hodges was taking an afternoon nap on her couch. Unbeknownst to her, a meteorite was fireballing its way across the sky. The chondrite rock, which we're assuming means "douchebag" in Latin, fragmented into three pieces during its descent. One of the pieces smashed through her roof and hit Hodges in the hip.

BowtiedDoctorsAndMeteoriteVictims.com: the most unsubscribed pornography site ever.

But that could happen to anyone, right?

Actually, no. She is the only one to ever be hit by a meteorite. Seriously, there's no other case in recorded history.

Mrs. Hodges' luck almost changed when she realized she had a rare toddler-sized fragment of potential money on her living room floor. This light was immediately burnt out by swarms of people who wanted to claim the meteorite for themselves.

The United States Air Force, who subscribe to the philosophy that getting crushed by something expensive doesn't denote ownership, helicoptered in and took the rock, presumably mooning Hodges and wagging their dicks as they flew away.

Eugene Hodges, Mrs. Hodges husband, hired a lawyer and got it back. With $5,000 offers coming in, their unfortunately-named landlady Bertie Guy tried to claim it to cover the damages made to the house.

The legal battles, public attention and dwindling offers finally become too much for Hodges and she donated the meteorite to the Alabama Museum of Natural History. We like to think she wiped her ass with it first.

Unlucky Because:

He was struck by lightning. Seven times.

Statistically, getting hit by lightning is a three-thousand to one chance. Therefore getting hit seven times is about twenty-two septillion to one. That's 22,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000. To 1.

Still not long enough odds for Roy Sullivan, who was a U.S. park ranger in Virginia's Shenandoah National Park. He was, in fact, hit by lightning seven different freaking times.

Some "scientists" theorize that Sullivan's occupation as a park ranger in an area prone to thunderstorms might have something to do with his problem. We prefer to think of him as an undiscovered X-Man with the worst superpower ever.

Sullivan first got struck in 1942 while on a lookout tower. The bolt entered his leg and exited his big toe, shooting the toenail into space. Sullivan has also been hit while driving down a mountain, fishing, and inside of a ranger station. You've got to wonder if there's something wrong with you when lightning searches you out inside of buildings. It set his hair on fire and Sullivan decided to carry a pitcher of water around with him wherever he went. Three years later he got struck in the ankle and since we're pretty sure ankles don't catch on fire the water was useless.

Even Sullivan's wife got in on the action while drying clothes outside. They were hanging metal laundry on a steel wire when they both got hit. Things cooled down for two years, but by his sixth strike Sullivan reported that he was actively trying to escape clouds that were "following him."

Lightning didn't do him in, though. Sullivan sadly shot himself when he was 71 years old, over a girl. Take that, lightning.

Unlucky Because:

Pretty much everything.

Jeanne Rogers lives her life like a sitcom. She's basically a female George Costanza. She's more of an enc*mbrance than a friend, really, resembling those annoying hostages in first person shooters that have terrible AI and need to be led to safety while continually stumbling into danger.

Sure, she hasn't been struck by lightning as many times as Roy up there, but she has been struck. Twice.

Then, when she was 18, Rogers was with a friend on a cruise ship taking pictures. She backed up a little too far and fell over the railing into the ocean. Her friend ran to get help but slipped and knocked herself unconscious. The Three Stooges were painting a wall nearby but were too engrossed in their slapstick routine to help. After regaining consciousness, Rogers' friend got the boat to turn around and pick her up.

Years later, she was walking down the street with her son who suddenly yelled, "Mommy, funny bird!" at which point a bat grabbed her f**king scalp. Panicked, she started frantically knocking on doors to get help, but each time someone answered the door they decided screaming was a better way to spend their time. The screams angered and confused the bat, which started pissing in her hair and scratching her scalp.

Crying and desperate, an acquaintance finally gave Rogers the keys to her car so she could drive herself to the vet. The acquaintance opted not to drive Rogers herself because it's funnier that way.

OK that's, like, the same plot as an episode of The Office.

The unfunny parts of Rogers' struggle with adult-onset ineptitude include being mugged, shot at, strangled, and falling into an open manhole. "Dying doesn't scare me, but living scares the crap out of me," said Rogers.

She also accidentally pantsed Mister Rogers at a swimming pool. Not her husband Mr. Rogers, mind you, but the actual Mr. Rogers of children's TV fame. So that more or less makes up for everything.