Andrew Butters is the man behind the Potato Chip Math brand and website. He writes, he creates, he eats snacks, and sometimes (always) lets his love of attention override common sense. You can find evidence of this anywhere you find him.
My Little Stanley Cup
It happened, then it took twelve years for it to happen again, and another seven for it to happen a third time. Until recently, every year I would watch the captain of the winning team hoist the Stanley Cup above his head and plant a giant kiss on it. This memory is burned into my brain from at least 1980 onward. Certainly, for my entire adult life, I know I have not missed the raising of The Cup more than a couple of times.
Beneath The Willow Trees And Beside The Hill
There’s a place beneath the willow trees and beside the hill where two friends go to light a fire and escape the day, if only for a minute. To forget about why and not think twice about standing by the lake and watching the sunset at noon.
In 1993 I was accepted into the Applied Physics program at the University of Waterloo (Ontario, Canada) and in the fall of that year, I began my post-secondary educational journey. It was a co-op program, which sometimes meant job placements during the "normal" school year and studies in the summer. Add to that terrible showings in a few classes (curse you, Electricity & Magnetism 2!) and by the summer of 1996, instead of heading into my fourth year and polishing off my degree as an Astrophysics major with the minimum allowable GPA, I was languishing in the middle of my third-year course load.
- Top Story - July 2022
How I Met Your MotherTop Story - July 2022
Let me take you back to the first week of September, 1993. I saw this girl during orientation week at university. We were on a school bus on the way to a bar for a drink fest (this was back when schools allowed and even sponsored these sorts of things). She was standing in the aisle, one hand on a seatback, the other pushing her hair behind her ear. She was talking with her friends, or maybe just some random people, it was hard to tell. She looked happy though.
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A single canoe rested half-pulled up onto the shore, lit only by a sliver of a waning crescent moon rising above the tree line. Its two paddles were propped up against the gunwales and barely visible in the dark of night.