STRANGER THAN FICTION: CAN YOU SMELL WHAT HEIDI IS COOKIN'?

Little wonder that the World Wrestling Federation is the event most likely to finally sell out the Show Me Center.

Sheryl Crow couldn't do it, and she's a multi-Grammy winning, Missouri-born vocalist. "Porgy and Bess" certainly won't.

But you get grown men in spandex tights with names like Val Venis, and you've got a crowd.

There's something oddly engaging about professional wrestling, even to people who are cultured and educated. I've even caught my religious mother, who prefaces the word "damn" with a disclaimer "I'm sorry to use profanity, but it's a damn shame," she says staring intently at Hulk Hogan.

Yes, I'm going to see "Porgy and Bess." But part of the reason is I know it would be wrong to miss it. It's rare American opera, it grants insight into an era gone by and the production will be magnificent.

With wrestling, I just know I want to go. First, a friend gave me the tickets for free. Second, it's an activity that will bring The Other Half and me closer together. And third, Chris Jericho's hair is pretty and I want to pet it.

I'm pretty knowledgeable about the WWF characters and all their stories, although long Mondays at work have kept me away for awhile. My favorite character is Dwayne Johnson, a.k.a. The Rock, because I like that he can raise one eyebrow and do that weird thing with his tongue when he yells: "Can you smmmmeeeeelllll what the ROCK ... IS ... COOKIN'?"

I'm not sure what that means, but I'm pretty sure I smell it. Or maybe I need to take out the garbage.

And I've decided that men like to see people crushed and thrown around because (a) some of those people are females who have parlayed their huge breast implants into television careers and Playboy centerfolds, and (b) wrestling is the male version of soap operas.

Think about it. Soaps feature nice-looking characters with lots of drama in their lives. So does wrestling.

And shows like "Smackdown" are set up like soaps you get just a couple of minutes of each story before moving on. Keeps you interested.

For example, you see Triple H backstage, arguing with Kurt Angle because Mr. H's wife, Stephanie, has been flirting with Kurt. Then you cut to a wrestling match between The Undertaker and Kane, brothers separated by misunderstanding, who throw each other out of the ring. Then it's over to Chyna and Eddie Guerrero, who are having an argument about their strained relationship.

And then it's back to Triple H, who is going to settle the whole Kurt and Stephanie situation by hitting Kurt over the head with a metal chair.

Now that's drama!

The Other Half went with some friends to see the WWF in Fort Lauderdale. He came home bearing a large, foam hand with the middle digit extended. The print on the back said, "'Cause Stone Cold says so."

"Why in the world did you get me this?" I asked.

He looked somewhat ill and became defensive. "I thought you'd thank me for thinking about you, but nnnnooooo!"

According to a friend along for the excursion, Mr. Half had purchased roughly six beers before purchasing my gift, which explains a lot.

Let me make clear, wrestling is not for the kiddies. Don't even make me mention the case of the South Florida boy who "wrestled" a 6-year-old acquaintance to death, according to his defense attorney.

But if you're an adult who enjoys a little mindless entertainment on a Sunday afternoon, I'll see you at the Show Me Center on Feb. 18.

Maybe you'll smell what I'm cookin'. Whatever that means.