The Great Hyperbole

I have come to the conclusion that my closest friends are those with whom I can feel comfortable using way too much hyperbole and yet still know that they understand what I mean.  I was worried that this would fade as we all grew older.  I never saw my parents and their peers use this much hyperbole and sarcasm in their everyday proceedings.  But as I get older, sometimes the hyperbole just gets better.  More refined.

It’s like a fine wine, sarcasm.  Not only does it get better with age, it gets you drunk on the sweet nectar of something better than you.

Yesterday, the Tumblr “Rich Kids of Instagram” came to my attention.  The site is full of pictures of extremely wealthy kids enjoying the fruits of their “labor”.  As I flipped through the pictures, I realized that hyperbole wasn’t needed for this.  Sarcasm be damned.  I actually felt bad for these kids.  As much as Dom Perigon that they were drinking certainly cost more than my mortgage this month, they didn’t seem happy.

Usually I get angry of rich people who don’t have to worry about things like car payments and credit card bills.  But in this moment, all I could feel was sad.  And that’s when these words escaped my digital mouth via gchat to Ms. MM:

5:59 PM you know the sad thing

i have only seen one of these posts that made me slightly jealous of these rich kids

6:00 PM and that was the one with the giant slide off the giant yacht

  because that looked fun as hell

  the rest

  eh

6:01 PM like you know these people have never been to an olive garden

  and that makes me feel for them

  as a human

For reference, here’s that picture…

Yes, that looks fun as hell.  But then I got to thinking about the upkeep of that yacht and having to set that slide up.  It just didn’t seem worth it.

Olive Garden’s breadsticks, on the other hand, are always worth it.  And that’s when I realized for the millionth time in my life that I don’t have it so bad.  I can afford to go to Olive Garden and get breadsticks and Red Lobster and get Cheddar Bay Biscuits (my life revolves around carbs, clearly) pretty much whenever I feel like it.  But these kids probably think that Olive Garden and Red Lobster are about as classy as a Long John Silvers and so they never go.  And it’s true…Olive Garden and Red Lobster are not as classy as I thought they were when I was a child.

But I’ll be goddamned if they aren’t delicious in their own right.  No, it’s not fresh seafood flown in daily.  No, it’s not authentic Italian food like someone’s grandma used to make.  But that doesn’t mean my life doesn’t have it’s own luxuries.

So then, the hyperbole came in…

Me:  I want the opposite of this page

 me: we should take pics on our Olive Garden/Red Lobster fest and make our own tumblr of broke ass hoes who live better than the rich kids of tumblr

 maria: with people like showing off their meijer’s receipts

 me: yes!

 maria: with the amount they save dcircled

 me: coupons on the bottom

  yes

  yes

  yes

 maria: .69 off uncle ben’s

  #ballin

6:05 PM me: haaaaaaaaaaaaa

  Broke Ass Hoes of the Great Lakes Region

Text from Ms. MM: #extracareballerbux

 

 

and then…

 

Text from Kim: #madcash #mywaytillpayday

 

Yeah, I may lack a yacht with a giant slide down it, but I more than make up for it in the great hyperbole I share with my friends…and with unlimited bread sticks and Cheddar Bay Biscuits.