All the douchiness you could hope for.

In D.C., you’ve got your choice of dive bars, hipster bars, dressy bars, sports bars…and douchey bars. Foggy Bottom’s McFadden’s would be one of the latter—the top one, in fact. Complex City Guide has published its list of the Top 25 Douchiest Bars in D.C., and McFadden’s takes top billing:

After descending the stairs to your demise, you’ll probably be greeted by some unfortunate co-ed dressed like she’s ready for junior high gym class. She’ll have shots for your face, if you want them. You can’t help but feel bad for her—was Hooters too competitive? After you evade the mindless drunks two-stepping to the same Top 40 tracks on the dance floor week in and week out, get ready for a real fight at the bar. If you’ve ever played basketball, the fundamentals of boxing someone out are a requisite here. Worse, there’s a spot between two of the downstairs bars that’s smelled like vomit for years. It’s either that, or a dead body under those floorboards. Don’t get trapped there.

The rest of the list is somewhat predictable: Rumors, Smith Point, Lucky Bar, Grand Central, Townhall, Madhatter, George, Recessions, and Public Bar round out the top 10. Ibiza makes the cut, as does Town Tavern, the Greene Turtle, Rhino Bar, Cafe Citron, and Truorleans. It’s probably worth trusting the folks over at Complex on these judgements: the publication tends toward the douchey, after all.

But in something of a head-scratcher, the guide also includes the Black Cat’s Red Room on the list, albeit near the bottom. It writes:

The Black Cat is a great concert venue, but its Red Room bar is reminiscent of the gateway to hell that you’ll remember from the original Amityville Horror. The drinks are cheap, as they should be at a place that reeks of hipster douche. Good luck getting one of those cheap drinks easily on a crowded night; the only way it’ll happen is if you’ve sold coke to one of the bartenders. Recently. Also, start counting from 100, because it’s only a matter of time before the kids who can’t handle their liquor begin yacking in unison. If you can deal with that—and the eye-burning musk of a small room packed with people smelling how they like—then you’re cool here. Our advice: if you’re there for a show, just chill upstairs.

What say you? Is the Red Room worthy of such billing? Or was including it just a douchey move?