1. Fanny packs. I've blogged about fashion faux pas in the District many a'time, but the fanny pack issue remains one of my favorite offenses. And this dude riding the redline, (who by the way was around my age) (which is, by the way, less than a quarter of a century), totally owns the fanny pack look. Which, frankly, is not the best look to take ownership of.
2. Tacky undies. This is what I get for attempting to shop at A.J. Wright, which is T.J. Maxx's skanky little cousin (& that doesn't bode well, because the Maxx is not always the cleanliest of locales). These intimates were $.99, which still feels like an unforgivable ripoff.
3. The Management. I'm guessing you can't actually read any of this sign, but it details the new security measures my realty will be installing in my building. The last line is, "Thank you for your continued residency & patience during this process," as though I'd quit living there because they're making it more secure. And as though they'd let me break my lease even if I wanted to!
4. Public Displays of Affection. Hold hands on the escalator, fine. A little peck on the cheek on the bus, OK. But when tired on the Metro, must you rest your weary head in your boyfriend's crotch? You could just as easily lean against the window as against your significant other's junk. Thanks in advance. or, in this couple's case, "Yuck."