Oh man, hyperbole. Let me tell you — I once told my best friend Sarah that her homemade chili was “spicier than Satan’s sunscreen” after one bite. She laughed so hard she snorted Diet Coke through her nose (RIP her white couch). That’s hyperbole in the wild: stretching the truth so far it snaps, just to make a point.
But here’s the thing — I didn’t even know the word “hyperbole” until my 10th-grade English teacher called me out for writing that my summer job felt “longer than a CVS receipt.” (You know the ones — they never end.) Mrs. Parker circled it in red and wrote: “GREAT HYPERBOLE. NOW USE IT SPARINGLY.” Turns out, I’d been casually bending reality for years. Like when I’d tell my little brother the line at Disney World’s Splash Mountain was “literally a 10-year commitment” to convince him to ride Pirates of the Caribbean instead. Parenting hack unlocked.
So, what exactly is hyperbole?
It’s not lying. It’s emphasis with jazz hands. You’ve seen it everywhere:
- Ads claiming a burger joint has “THE BEST FRIES ON PLANET EARTH” (looking at you, Arby’s curly fries fans)
- Your aunt texting “MY PHONE HAS A THOUSAND MISSED CALLS FROM YOU!” after you dialed twice
- That friend who says their new puppy is “FLUFFIER THAN A MARSHMALLOW IN A SNOWSTORM”
Here’s where I messed up early on:
I used to think more exaggeration = more funny. Wrong. When I told my college roommate her snoring sounded “like a chainsaw duetting with a dying walrus,” she didn’t talk to me for three days. Lesson learned: Hyperbole works best when it’s playful, not personal.
Real-life examples that’ll stick:
- Parenting Survival Mode: “If I have to repeat ‘PUT YOUR SHOES ON’ one more time, my head WILL spin around like the Exorcist.” (Spoiler: My head stayed put. The shoes did not.)
- Sports Commentary: “That quarterback moves slower than Internet Explorer!” — my dad during Thanksgiving football, 2019. Iconic.
- Social Media Drama: “This meeting could’ve been a 2-word email and they made it 47 years long #corporate.” Seen that meme? That’s hyperbole with a side of existential dread.
Why bother using it?
Because literal language is oatmeal. Hyperbole is oatmeal with rainbow sprinkles, hot fudge, and a surprise Pop-Tart crumbled on top. It makes ideas stick. When my kid refused to eat veggies, I didn’t say “They’re healthy.” I said, “Broccoli gives you laser vision — ask Superman.” Guess who nibbled a floret? (No lasers yet, but we’re hopeful.)
One weird trick I discovered:
Hyperbole backfires if it’s not obviously impossible. I once joked that my neighbor’s Christmas lights were “visible from Mars,” and he spent 20 minutes explaining NASA’s camera resolution. Now I stick to “brighter than my future” — shuts down conversations faster.
Your homework (if you want it):
Next time you’re stuck in traffic, text a friend something like “I’VE BEEN IN THIS TURN LANE SINCE THE OBAMA ADMINISTRATION.” Watch how it flips frustration into a laugh. Or when your barista asks how your day’s going? “Busier than a one-armed octopus at a handstand contest.” Thank me later when they upgrades your latte size for free.
At the end of the day, hyperbole’s like hot sauce — a little kicks things up. Too much, and everyone’s crying. Now go forth and exaggerate responsibly. (And if you try the laser broccoli thing? DM me. For science.)