I hate: patchouli.
Word has it: I once spoke Swedish fluently (after living for a year in Sweden at the tender age of five, of which I remember nothing but being bit on the ass by a swan).
And: I have blue eyes, dark roots, and pale, picked-clean skin. My jaw sometimes gets stuck in the "on" position. I fall down a lot (even though my ankles are sturdy and child-bearingly wide). Periodically my hair falls out. I can't sleep. I love cake.