Sausagefest

I was shopping for sausage the other day (I just can't resist making awkward innuendos like that).  I was going to a potluck dinner and I had been assigned main-dish duty, so baked rigatoni it was. This particular recipe called for cooked Italian sausage to be added to the mix. To be honest, I could have easily bought raw sausage and cooked it myself before making the pasta dish, but I'm somewhat of a stickler for recipes. So stubbornly, I searched for cooked sausage.

I had passed the butchers counter three times in my vain quest for cooked sausage, each time ignoring the butchers offer to help, before I admitted defeat. Sheepishly, I tip-toed over to the counter, swallowing my pride.

Me: Hi, I can't seem to find cooked Italian sausage.
Butcher: Cooked? Are you sure you don't want that sausage... *cue awkward eyebrow wiggle and lowering of voice registry* raw?
Me(flatly): The recipe calls for cooked.

He was out from behind the counter before I could say "I'll-just-make-fettuccine-Alfredo-thanks" and leading me on a grand quest halfway across the store. Two things about this are awkward. First of all, why are the smoked and pre-cooked meats so far away from the butchers counter? Secondly, he was wearing his butchers apron with a plaid shirt, blue jeans that were cuffed just above the ankle, and Timberland hiking boots. I felt like Paul Bunyan was my tour guide across H.E.B. (Awkward sidenote: that's the name of Texas grocery store. It's the initials of the original owner: Henry Edward Butts.)

We got to the cooked meats section and even though there seemed to be only one option as far as Italian goes, I was ready to take it and run. He loitered for a moment before leaving me with one last strange meat pun: "If you don't see what you want over here, come back to the butcher counter and I can personally help you find some meat." Again with the eyebrows.

I guess I can either shop at Wal-Mart or try to bring a scary looking friend. Or just go vegetarian. Anything to avoid a lumberjack/butcher making vaguely sexual puns when all I want is to do my part at a pot luck.