A little less than a month ago it was brought to my attention that the actual, real live (well, as live as cotton can be) outfit that none other than Katie Vick wore on WWE television was going to be auctioned off on WWE.com. I got a ton of emails about it, and I laughed whole heartedly at the absurdity of such a notion. Forget porcelain Stone Cold babies, or vibrating Kevin Nash dolls. This has them all beat by far.

After all, who in their right mind would ever think, "WOW! I've GOT TO BUY THIS!"

Then the phone rang. It was Blade Braxton.

I knew I should have hung up immediately.

"Dude, did you hear that they are auctioning off Katie Vick's cheerleader outfit?" he squealed with delight. "We have GOT TO BUY THIS!"

And that's where it all started to go wrong.

Please don't ask me why, but I actually listened to his argument. Remember the old cartoons where a character would listen to the little devil version of himself on his shoulder? That's EXACTLY what it's like when I start taking advice from our JOTW correspondent.

And sure enough, $200 and a few days later, THIS arrived at WrestleCrap HQ:

I have to admit, I had zero idea what the hell this package could even be. In fact, it just kind of sat over in the corner for a couple of days before I finally decided to investigate.

"From: WWE/VENUE"

Oh yeah, now I remember - that stupid thing that Blade talked me into, that led to a humongoid fight with the Missus. Now before you take Lady Deal to task for this, I want you to step back and think about how, exactly, I was supposed to explain to my wife that I just dropped a C-Note (BB and I split the cost) on such a thing. Put yourself in my shoes.

"Well, you see, honey, I bought something...it's a cheerleader outfit worn by a mannequin who was supposedly dead in a wrestling skit. Isn't that GREAT?"

Amazingly, I'm not divorced.

Well, at least not yet.

And then there's Blade, calling me every freakin' day asking if I got it yet. Finally, I call him back and tell him it's here. "Well, what the F*** are you waiting for? OPEN IT UP!"

So I do. And this is what I found:

Five ZipLoc baggies of clothes.

Oh yeah, the wife will TOTALLY understand why I shelled out money for THIS.

I open up the first of the baggies, the one that had "ALL SIGNED" scribbled across it, apparently by a three year old with his first Crayloa. And this is what I found:

One bra and no less than FOUR pair of panties, all signed by wrestling's equivalent to the anti-Christ, Triple H himself.

For those sickos out there (and you know who you are), you will be glad to know that our favorite deceased pom pom gal was a 36C. Weird. She looked much smaller on TV.

She also had very weird feet, apparently, as the socks (six pairs!) included in the next baggie ranged from stockings that Andre could have put both feet in at once to a pair so dinky that wouldn't have fit Sky Low Low's pinky toe.

I also received an official Certificate of Authenticity signed by no less than Linda McMahon herself.

You know what would have been really great? If she had signed a pair of the panties. Imagine how much THOSE would go for on eBay.

The highlight was the outfit itself. It looks to be very well made. Perhaps if I lose 150 pounds (and my penis) I can dance around in it to the delight of no one.

As I scattered everything across my floor, I looked at my bounty. One cheerleader outfit. Three pom poms (I dare not even ask how she waved the odd one). Four pair of panties. A bra signed by my least favorite wrestler of all time. Six pairs of socks.

So remember - no matter what you may have bought in the name of wrestling, no matter how worthless or stupid it might have been...you didn't blow $200 on this.

Which makes you much smarter than the dorks who run WrestleCrap.