If you haven't seen the sketch comedy group Boris' Kitchen do their schtik yet, then you've been depriving yourself of one of the best treats this campus has to offer. Their writing is hysterical, their acting is of near-professional quality and their comedy as a whole is simply sublime in its splendor. Naturally, their latest production, "Are You There God? It's Me, Boris," which was performed in Shapiro Theater this past Friday and Saturday, was a rousing success.

It was clear from the very beginning of the first night's show that few boundaries were placed on the humor. The group gleefully opened with a dose of terrible taste that depicted a couple who accidentally cross their phone sex conversation with an incoming call from their horror-struck daughter.

The evening then took an absurdist tone. As a movie screen descended from above the stage and snidely tried to convince the audience to leave the theater through both taunting and outright threats of imminent death.

Though this constant change of pace may have been disconcerting under lesser circumstances, it was delightful here, constantly knocking the audience's expectations down, only to replace them with even better twists. The timing was spot-on in most cases as well, so no one sketch ever grew too tedious.

The first act was something of a mixed bag-a mixed bag full of wonderful treats, to be sure, but not all sketches were created equal.

Amusing one-note joke pieces, such as a bit about a psychotic roommate and a support group for compulsive away message checkers, were a bit unsubstantial. A segment involving a midyear who discovers the stranger side of Brandeis life, as well as one about the zany discussions of the Legos marketing department, were funnier, but seemed somewhat scattered.

Still, there were a few gems sprinkled throughout the first half. Jeremy Toren '05 competed with the audience's hysterical laughter during his portrayal of Vlad the Weight Watcher, who dissuades dieters from overeating by smashing their food into pieces.

Elliott Veloso '05 shined in the role of a coach lecturing on the proper safety measures of a horrific, vaguely tennis-like game known as "deathball." His expression of demented agony as he collapsed to the floor, mourning the deaths of those who failed to wear the proper eye gear, was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Even if it had ended before the intermission, the show could have been considered a high-quality gig. As it was, the second half was even greater than the first, upping the ante until the lunacy reached fever pitch.

An already-clever, Daily Show-style send-up of current events was thrown into chaos when David Klasko '07 arrived on the scene. His short, affectionate parodies of every play staged at Brandeis this semester were met with a round of rapturous applause, which only grew wilder when he grabbed a guitar and sang of the trials and tribulations of the housing lottery and various majors, all to the tune of Maroon 5 songs.

Because of their complexity, several sketches had to be shown on videotape rather than performed live. The trade-off was definitely worth it, particularly during a painfully earnest Public Service Announcement on behalf of beer-deprived comedy troupe members.

In the end, it was the power of nostalgia that delivered the ultimate comedic blow. Audience members happily flashed back to childhood memories of the Oregon Trail computer game as Carol Ortenberg's '06 would-be politician combatted bad career choices in "Campaign Trail." Even that sketch, however, was nothing compared to a police interrogation of Mario, of Nintendo fame. By the time Luigi was revealed as the snitch, there wasn't a quiet soul in the house.

With a performance this good, the only thing Boris' Kitchen left to be desired for next fall's show was a three-act show.