If Brad’s incessant ramblings of nonsense and existential planes of existence weren’t enough, the guy has to take his shirt off and tweak his man nobs in front of us. Just stop it, Brad Pitt! I’ve been perfectly confident in my sexuality, ever since that week at summer camp when I was 14. Now I’ve got all these confusing thoughts swirling around in my head an a sudden desire to sprint to Macy’s and buy your stinkin’ cologne. Damn you, Brad Pitt! Damn you to hell!