Packaging for any item made after 1978. After I take the plastic off the CD, why the hell is there a sticker on it? Same with DVDs and Blu-rays; sometimes, after you get through the outer wrapping, you have to contend with three stickers, which invariably leave little glue marks all over the case which was presumably wrapped in plastic to protect it. And why in crikey fuck do I need a box, molded plastic, tape, twist ties, more molded plastic, and plastic insert just for an electric razor? The thing is six inches long! The only reason it comes in a box that's 12x10x8 is so you could fill it with meaningless plastic bullshit. Stop it!
And I'm getting a little sick of beers at bars being filled to the point of overflowing. Literally. You're handed a glass that already has beer cascading down the side of it. You try to move it, it splashes. I'm trying to carry four beers back to my friends, and I'd honestly rather not make a mess of your bar; is that too much to ask? Fill them to within 3/4 of an inch of the top and call it good. I'm not such a depraved alcoholic that I'm actually going to pitch a fit about an ounce of beer missing from my pint; it's either going to be in your keg or on your floor anyway, so which would you prefer Mr. Barman?
And while we're on the subject of bars, I've had about enough of the ignorant morons who try to run off with my custom pool cue because "they thought it was a house cue." Well that's about the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. If you can't actually tell the difference between a two-piece cue with a stainless steel joint, Irish linen wrap and decorative inlays and your average crooked one-piece house cue with no tip, well, you just need to stop right there. Leave the pool table, it's not your game. You'll never be able to tell the balls apart. Take up competitive drinking, which you seem to have a good start on already, and stop trying to take shit that doesn't belong to you.
And what the fuck is up with people who just automatically assume you want to give them a ride? "Let's hang out." "OK." "So you'll come pick me up?" What? No! Fuck you! Get a car you lazy fuck! Why should I drive your ass around just because you happen to be a stupid jackass who got caught driving drunk and then subsequently got busted five times for driving with a suspended license? I should feel obligated to drive you because you're clearly too big a moron to handle the responsibility? Fuck off. Walk. It'll be good for you. And no, I'm not giving you a ride after we've been at the bar. I don't give a shit if I look sober. You should have considered your options before you agreed to come out. You getting home isn't my responsibility.
And bicyclists: Fuck bicyclists. They know what they did.