CO OWNER OR????
22 Jul 2010
We just got back from a candy convention at the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield Ca. It was by and for Powells owners.

It all started so innocently.
People at the cocktail party on the first night, just socializing and reacquainting, band playing, people in good clothes, that sort of thing. I started noticing that all these people could talk about was powells candy store. I have a life on the outside. Was I considered an equal? Then I started wondering why Craig thought it would be “cool” if I ironed my shirt.
Why did he want me to wear the pants that make my butt look good. And why were the designer shoes so important? OMG, could it be? Am I just (dare I say it) am I a Trophy wife?? 
8 Responses
2010 Jul 22
LOLOL
You would make a fabulous trophy wife – but I know there’s so much more to you than that….
2010 Jul 23
LOL!!! I love it. You should be honored to be a trophy wife. Everyone should have their own Paul
2010 Jul 23
That’s not too bad. Brandon wants me to start wearing eye make-up again! AHHHHH!!!
2010 Jul 23
LOL Jennifer. Eye make-up is where I think I’ll draw the line.
2010 Jul 23
You and me both. Well, the jury is still out for me actually. However, I DO draw the line at ironing, case closed.
2010 Jul 23
My husband is a fake trophy wife. That was MY shirt he was ironing because he is so much better at it than I am. And as for the designer shoes…I have one pair – he has four pair.
On the other hand…the way he looks on the Wonka Kazoozles beach towel makes me think I’ll probably have him stuffed and mounted if he kicks the bucket first.
He actually is quite a trophy. Glad I bagged him.
2010 Jul 28
Love it!!! Ahhh to be a trophy wife. Living in Orange County pretty much made me realize I am far from trophy wife material! Looks like Kimo will have to settle for my saggy but real boobs, flat lips, wrinkles, and cellulite
Of course that all comes with one hell of a personality and smile!
Paul (and Craig) you both look great by the way!
Love ya!
2010 Jul 28
You do look particularly hot on that Kazoozles towel, Paul. Admit it.