I think I overuse the word "hate". I say that I hate things on a regular basis. I hate cantaloupe. I hate people who cut in front of me in line. I hate the apartment above mine and how they're always having parties. But I don't know if I actually hate anything. I have a hard time distinguishing, within myself, the fine lines between frustration and anger and hate. They all build up and make me blow up, in the T-ish way that @metalmommy talked about.
I tend to be fairly self-controlled, like @Saturned, but the only times that I actively allow myself to rage at/about things, i.e. to let myself be verbally angry without self-censorship, are when I know that I'm in the right and I know that it's justified. Which makes me a pretty typical 1, I guess, in that I almost like letting anger out too much, to keep it in all the time. The catharsis feels too good.