For the fifth year in a row, BBI performed as a featured act in the San Francisco Theater Festival. In 2007 and again in 2008, BBI wowed the massive crowds in Yerba Buena Gardens with our unique brand of improvised hilarity, and this year was even better. In fact, to realize maximum gain from the massive name-brand recogition and fanatic following of Blue Blanket Improv, event organizers scheduled BBI for two, count 'em TWO killer sets: the opening act of the festival and the closing act.

Opening the festival on the showcase Waterfall Stage, BBI really let it all hang out. Despite wilting heat and acoustical challenges that left other acts smoldering by the side of the road in a charred broulage of failed offers and broken dreams, BBI was running on solar power. The attitude was decidedly "yes and," the energy was high, and the creativity was flowing. Scenes were short, taut, and conclusive, with plenty of action and sass. The audience barely had time to recover from one belly roll before they were bombarded with yet another wave of rollicking comedy goodness -- all made up on the spot based on audience suggestions.

If you thought the spin cycle was fast, you should have seen how quickly BBI took care of their dirty laundry -- it was like Groundhog Day on speed at the laundromat. Like we said, good clean fun. Then there was the foreign poet who spoke-a no English but gave us his intrepreted rendition of the classic Western character, Black BART. From there, things descended into a murky, but hilarious, septic tank of murder and awkward grown men being manipulated by giggling 11-year-old kids. BBI really flushed out some comic game during the olympic toilet plunging match between Smerv Smerveson and Jenny "The Sump Pump" Sokolovsky, and if you ever had any doubt what to serve at pool parties, just remember, mamma needs her another gin and tonic, baby.

Bringing the festival home on the Stone Stage as the shadows deepened in the glass and steel canyons of SOMA and the last moments of the weekend flickered in the balance, BBI continued its relentless comic pressure. The audience, hoarse from shouting their scene suggestions, encouragement, and approval, rallied for guffaw after guffaw after guffaw. Long after the last chair was folded and the last sign taken down on the festival grounds, the laughter from BBI's perfect moment in the sun could still be heard reverberating through the collective consciousness of an afternoon gone horribly right.