Here are a few of my pet peeves. I apologize in advance if they offend anyone.
People with seventy five guns that can't shoot well with any of them. Serves them right for hoarding guns just to "have" them. Reminds me of people with gourmet kitchens and several hundred bucks worth of pretty pots and pans hanging from pretty racks, who never cook. (they usually eat out so as not to dirty the pretty pans) Just plain sad.
$2,000 and up 1911's. Actually, $1,000 and up 1911's. I just recently watched two friends, one with a Kimber and one with a Dan Wesson, get trounced by a yokel with a Taurus in an accuracy and function competition. I'll take a bone-stock Colt over a boutique gun any day of the week.
RB to SB conversion grips that remind me of a glock grip. I really dislike round butt grips, but that doesn't mean I want a conversion grip the size of a beer bottle. If you ask me (and I know nobody is, or should be) RB N-frames are as appealing as decaf coffee with artificial sweetener and non-dairy creamer.
Magnumitis. Faster, louder, and higher pressure is not always necessary or even reasonable. Sorta like owning a Hemi truck with monster tires to drive to the office on the interstate every day. Fit the tool to the job. Sadly, that's becoming a vanishing art. Lotsa guys in my neck of the woods hunting whitetails in dense cover (30-40yard shots max) with 300winmags, shortmags, and assorted other flamethrowers when a 30-30 would be just as effective and much less expensive, painful, damaging to the meat, ...etc.
Muzzle loaders that look like something from Star-Wars.
AR15's with twenty pounds of tactical nonsense on them. Goes back to the Hemi Truck for suburban commuting.
10-22's with twenty pounds of tactical nonsense on them.
Anything with twenty pounds of tactical nonsense on it unless it's being carried by a SWAT team member on duty.
Flavored coffee. I know it's a little out of context, but coffee shouldn't require a twenty five syllable description to order. Coffee is a medical need, not an esoteric experience. I like my coffee to smell like coffee, not like a mixture of suntan lotion and "Hot Desert Nights" aroma therapy candles. Plus, that stuff is as sweet as Zarex straight-up. I'll lump Chai in with these coffee imposters, as too dainty for my liking. I worked with a fellow a few years ago, who wore Patouille oil and drank Chai tea every day. The combined odor was so nauseating I actually got in the habit of sticking two spent 45colt shell casings up my nostrils to mask the guy's foul scents. Not a pretty picture, but it worked well.
Tanto-bladed knives and knives with blades that are 1/4" thick. I like the real tanto blades on Japanese swords/knives of this description, but on pocket knives I like a more practical blade style. I use my knife daily, for cutting bread, boxes, opening envelopes, cutting steak, etc. One thing I seldom use my knife for is piercing helicopter doors or cinderblock walls. Don't get me wrong, I like a nice door-piercing every now and then, but not every day. I find a tanto-style blade about as effective for whittling or normal cutting chores as a stanley chisel. The thick blades common on so many knives now make them about as useful a cutting tool as a rolling pin. They chop real well, but try cutting anything more meaningful than water and the thickness is a real hinderance.
Anyone who takes themselves to seriously. There's a difference between having honor and being touchy.
People with the offended/victimized mentality. A local town here in VT has had to stop having an opening prayer (a pretty non-descript, all-encompassing sort of thing) at their Town Meeting Day events because one individual (one, out of hundreds present) was offended. She felt victimized by the offensive request to have God bless the townspeople with wisdom in decision making, a spirit of unity and fair play, and general good fortune as related to business, weather, and whatever. She was sorely lacking in the first two categories, and apparently not open to having anyone, even a higher power, make up for her lack. Get a life. When one person dictates what the majority has to do, it's no longer democracy. Makes you want to cry, or laugh.
By the way, I think I smelled Chai on her breath.