One of the early ones is actually, so I’ve read, “May the fleas of a thousand Arabian camels infest your armpits.” (I bet there’s an exponential difference between a thousand camel fleas and the fleas of a thousand camels. 
)
May you suffer a flat tire in a bad neighborhood.
May you be soaked by a malfunctioning public toilet in a tiny stall where the door opens inwards and the slide latch gets stuck.
May you be plagued by noisy, inconsiderate neighbors, who like loud music, car alarms, and leaf blowers – and who mow the lawn at 8:00 every Saturday morning.
May your fishtank spring a leak – from the bottom.
May your “bottom” spring a leak.
May you suffer “sour milk” breath, even when you do not drink milk.
May your food always go spoil three days before it should.
May you suffer a pitifully small raise, only large enough to nudge you into a higher tax bracket, so that you wind up poorer.
May you install mosquito screens, only to be plagued by no-see-ums.
May your roof spring a leak at the beginning of the rainy season.
May you sail through life, buoyed along by your own wind.
May a bout with intestinal flu ruin your holidays.
May you be picked for Jury Duty each and every year.
May a grand piano falling from a great height hit your gout-inflamed toe. [from the demented comics of MAD’s Don Martin]
May you die and be reincarnated as a banana slug in a salt mine.
May you be stuck for a long recuperation in a hospital bed with a blaring overhead TV and no remote control.
May your pets crap all over your shoes.
May the garbage trucks always wake you 20 minutes before you would normally get up.
May your Pop Tarts[TM] catch fire in your toaster, causing enough smoke damage to ruin your wardrobe.
May your surgeon’s hand slip.
May you make history – in a medical journal.
May you lose your job, may your spouse leave you, may your children hate you, may your friends shun you, may you lose your home and possessions, may you be driven to suicide, may you be buried in a potter’s field, and may you be unknowingly and ignominiously disinterred from your burial plot by the construction of an interstate.
May your future nursing home have an extensive library – of Pauly Shore movies.
May your brokerage firm be exposed on “60 Minutes”.
May your favorite football team lose their starting quarterback for the season.
May yours prove to be the most pathetic story at your high school reunion.
May a lightning bolt be attracted to your dental fillings/bra underwires/golf cleats/cufflinks…
May your greatest diversion be rendered technologically outmoded, so that you have to re-buy everything in a new format.
May the brakes squeak on your neighbor’s car.
May you have neighbors who leave their Christmas lights up until April.
May your implants fall out of fashion.
May your implants fall out of place.
May a mutt mount your purebred.
May the silverfish eat your Jane Austen first editions/baseball card collection/family Bible/Marvel comics/Ph.D dissertation…
May your potatoes grow that green patina that makes them taste really, really bitter.
Thanks, this was fun!