I have a good command of the language which I mostly use for graphic, vulgar humour and extended rants about the general shitness of things. If you get as much pleasure from hating things as from loving them, then we might get along. For instance, I like visiting the Inner West for a meal but I'm incredibly tired of talking about bloody great it is with all the middle-management pseudobohemians that have driven the prices up. I like art, but I'll gladly pay to never have to read a wall plaque in a gallery again. I like a good sandwich, but am irritated that they are now called "paninis", "ciabattas" and other words with too many vowels that people like to mispronounce to sound sophisticated. Oh, Dia de los Muertos facepainting. Clever. Original. Fixie bikes are unsafe.
I'm a pessimist, cynic, curmudgeon, nihilist and misanthrope because I am vaguely aware of the rest of the human race and how on Earth could one be anything else in the face of that?
I probably should mention that I'm on the autistic spectrum, so I can be a bit blunt at times. I do try and rein it in, but I tend to have so many competing bad impulses that it's probably best if you're thick-skinned.