I'm nice. To kiss and just in general and I know how to use power tools and can build shelves. AND...my horrendous spelling is a medical oddity but I think I give good e-mail, etc.
Do I know how to do the Lambada? Sure. o.k maybe not but what the hell. Fun, frivolity, manic Bacchanals around town in nothing but my skivvies - I'm there. BUT I don't think there's anything wrong with being civil and, dare I say, compassionate either - to echo the Costello song.
Yes I've administered a few purple head-band, ginsu beat-downs like when I owned a little red scooter that went from 0 - 70 in eight seconds. Silly porsche drivers would get out of their cars and charge me in a drunken water buffalo-like rage of confusion and jealousy after I smoked them out of the green light. But I took no pleasure in these punitive measures. "This hurts me more than it hurts you" kind of thing.
Point is I'm only bad 48% of the time .

Um.. Make up inane dances to Zamfir and the Pipes of Pan and compete in the Ridiculous Dance Olympics at your local jukeboxing establishment. Naturally the loser would have to sing "Sister Christian" a cappella at the top of their lungs. AND buy the first drink.
Let's see, what else? Coffee shop? Music, stroll in the park, coffee shop (Oh ya, I already said that), bar, um, what-have-you..