you're telling me

you're telling me

I know. A: "Training for a marathon is so grueling." B: "You're telling me—I've already run three of them!"
See also: telling
Farlex Dictionary of Idioms.

You're telling me!

Inf. I know all too well the truth of what you are saying. Tom: Man, it's hot today! Bob: You're telling me! Jane: This food is really terrible. Sally: Wow! You're telling me!
See also: telling
McGraw-Hill Dictionary of American Idioms and Phrasal Verbs.

you're telling me

I'm well aware of that, as in She's a terrific dancer.-You're telling me! I taught her how, or You're telling me, the prices are sky-high here. [Early 1900s]
See also: telling
The American Heritage® Dictionary of Idioms by Christine Ammer.

you're telling me!

used to emphasize that you are already well aware of something or in complete agreement with a statement. informal
See also: telling
Farlex Partner Idioms Dictionary

you’re telling ˈme!

(spoken, informal) used for saying that you already know and completely agree with what somebody has just said: ‘Cooking for ten people is hard work.’ ‘You’re telling me!’
See also: telling
Farlex Partner Idioms Dictionary
See also:
  • You're telling me!
  • there's no telling
  • in more ways than one
  • telling
  • hold terror for
  • hold terror for (someone)
  • have no sense of shame
  • in for it
  • be in for it
  • form an/(one's) own opinion
References in periodicals archive
Moments like the scene in You're Telling Me!, in which he struggles with a newly acquired ostrich, ask us to reconsider the very meaning of the term "athletic."
Silent films were remade as talkies (So's Your Old Man remade as You're Telling Me!, and the theatrical version of Poppy remade as Sally of the Sawdust and remade yet again as the film Poppy), vaudeville sketches as interludes within broader narratives (Six of a Kind, The Old Fashioned Way); many of the stories themselves take place within a not-so-distant past.
Whatever they may have lacked in biographical truth was compensated by their surprising emotional resonance in the midst of the Great Depression, as in moments like You're Telling Me's funny failed suicide attempt aboard a train.
A more useful distinction might be made in terms of voice alone, distinguishing between the carnival barker's bunkum (or "outdoor voice") in You're Telling Me!, and the muttered commentary (or "indoor voice") heard in films like It's A Gift.
Notes on W.C. Fields (for Jim Gardner)