At this stage in The Bachelor, Brad's really got his hands full.
You can tell he's getting tense by the way he increasingly talks with all the forced sincerity of a Best Buy sales team associate pushing a Samsung 28.5-cubic-foot French-door fridge with two humidity-controlled crispers and seriously, sir, I've got one of these myself and it's worth the extra bucks.
He's also having a tough time acting concerned when house nutbag/actress Michelle goes into her weepy manic obsession rant. See for yourself ...
"I know I'm supposed to be here!"
I know it because they wouldn't cast me on The Young and the Restless 'cause I was too ethnic or something—can you believe that crap?—and I don't have a substance problem, so there goes Celebrity Rehab, and I was up for a paste eater on My Strange Addiction, which I was perfect for, but that didn't happen, and then my agent said I had the next season of Bad Girls Club totally nailed, but come on. Really? Bad Girls Club? Please. So I took this gig.
Hey, was that too teary? Do you want crazier? Can we take it again? God, my nose is so running!