If you're from NC, the genesis of the sport, then you've probably been exposed to such a spectacle at some point.
If you aren't from here, you've been exposed to it anyway.
My oldest best friend, an ISTJ that we met when playing in the mud at the end of our driveway, used to invite us over to her house just to hang out and eat junk and jump on the trampoline. We did this for 4,005 years, and then after that, it was a brief but tragic experiment of me and her jumping on the trampoline at midnight in our pjs without any bras on. One big bounce each and we were rolling around on the trampoline praying for the death that would not come.
But I digress!
This friend - her dad loved to watch wrestling. So when us whippersnappers were convened in the living room, sitting on the floor eating his butt-kicking-awesome single-dad tuna noodle casserole, we'd watch wrasslin' with him. Back then, it was kinda rough around the edges. My dad said he used to take clients from the disabled/handicapped halfway house to watch local matches in Greensboro in the 1970s and that it was like a parking lot fight, only with fatter guys, folding chairs and blue-haired old ladies screaming murderously in the audience.
In our day, it was Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Junkyard Dog, Roddy Piper, et al. plus a new influx of Sting, the Rock n Roll Express, etc.
Many many years pass. I got a driver's license, a somewhat hot thing going on with my Duran Duran poster, a truly consuming fascination with "21 Jump Street", and a need to go out with my girlfriends in the biggest earrings then known to mankind.
Flashforward to 2009...
Two things of note occur:
1. I'm amidst a conversation with many guy friends, longtime wrasslin' fans. I laugh at their silly talk! I laugh at their silly "matches"! I imagine our Halla tossing people around a ring in a very muscley and delightful fashion because it pleases me! At this point, I have not watched wrasslin' since I was a wee mite!
2. I wind up awake at all hours of the night because I feel sick (or my Monkey does , even though I make her a dinner of tasty rice and brush her fur properly...) and accidentally bore witness to a bunch of giant men (and ladies!) tossing each other around.
I cannot. Stop. Watching it now.
Because that world is SO ALIEN to me. It's like S-Land Sweating Moose Candy Spandex! That last sentence doesn't have to make sense! It ALL tastes like purple!
Womens' soap opera: "That's not your baby!"
Male Wrasslin' soap opera: "ZOMGFIFTYFOOTTVSCREENZ, BABY!"
Womens' soap opera: "I have amnesia!"
Male Wrasslin' soap opera: "I'm going to smoosh you into a turnbuckle until you have amnesia!"
Womens' soap opera: "Let's make love!"
Male Wrasslin' soap opera: "Ok, but really loud and on top of my enemies which are all those sneering way less awesome guys ever there in the shiny Speedos!!"
I haven't been this entertained in ages. *eats cookies* I mean, all these people are giants and they're smashing things and the laydeez could crush you with their thighs.
My brain is FASCINATED by this.