on dating latinas, hipsters in the hood, & what makes us different: wasapwu comedy kills at la fonda bar & grill

‼️ Warning: This content contains profanity. Viewer discretion is advised. ‼️

written by justin orsino
edited by sarina e. guerra

Truth be told, I’m just not built for texting. Emotionally and spiritually. It’s not that I don’t know what to say, it’s that I never actually respond. I’ll see a message, think ‘I should open that,’ and then forget it exists. Which is a problem, because I’m a journalist. I need to answer people. So last month was a big deal. I replied to a message! It was from Wasupwu Productions (internet speak for “what’s up with you”), a local entertainment company that surprisingly wanted to invite me to an NFL draft party and comedy show happening at La Fonda Bar & Grill in El Centro on April 26th. And I gotta say, for once, I’m glad I hit reply.

Flier to the Draft Party by Wasupwu Comedy

I walked in after a windy day and was greeted by Juan and Helen Molina, the co-founders of Wasupwu Productions. We introduced ourselves, and I walked over to my table, which I requested to be labeled as something other than my name. And there it was, a name plate that said “People’s Press”. And by name plate, I mean a folded piece of paper. It was still cool to me. I still have it.

Host Heck Dogg kicked off the night by hyping up fans of various teams (Raiders, Chargers, 49ers, Cowboys, and the like) thanking sponsors like ALX Construction, Brown Bag Cookies, Southwest Security, and La Fonda Bar & Grill before introducing the first comedian: Ruben El Chino.

…Chino said casually, receiving immediate laughter. He began to share stories about growing up in San Diego, a city known for its loyal Chargers fans. “The fans were fully committed. Committed to an insane asylum.” He ended talking about his experience as a single man in today’s world, joking, “I’m single, so ladies, if you’re interested, you know where to find me.” In a quip about his sexuality, he said he’s “bi… himself”.

The second comedian, Vic Vasquez, came out dancing to El Sonidito (if you don’t know about this song, just click it). This guy was not shy, name-dropping strip clubs in Mexicali and having friendly banter with the audience. “I drove for three and a half hours. I’m here to talk shit, have drinks, and go home.” He started with a playful story about getting lost on his way to El Centro because of the Waze app. “I was driving through Brawley, and I thought, ‘I’d rather be in Compton than in Brawley,’” he said with concern, before talking about an alternation with a group of five men. “This dude goes, ‘If you want, I’ll get in the car and drive you,’ and I’m like, this fucker’s been locked up.”

He shared stories from his childhood in Echo Park, growing up in a rapidly changing neighborhood. His back-and-forth on gentrification, raising kids in today’s world, and holding onto one’s roots were topics throughout his conversation.

“That’s it. My fucking neighborhood, which is shit, dude.” Vic said there’s “not one cholo left”, which sucks because he’s “not a bitch”. “My kids are woke,” he said with regret. “They didn’t grow up like us. We used to ride in the back of pickup trucks without seatbelts. It was part of life!” He reflected on how different life is as he observes the current generation. “We took a nap to be in this bitch right now,” he said proudly. He spoke of cautious moments sneaking his father’s magazines, and desperate ones squinting at distorted pay-per-view channels they hadn’t paid for, expressing how differently people have been living since the turn of the century. “Right now, homegirl could just go ‘fuck this comedy show’ and watch fucking big-ass dicks right now.”

You can watch Vic’s special on Roku TV called “Mas Locos,” on LatinoCircuit TV.

Luis Noriega, a proud Mexican from Boyle Heights, grew up in a tough neighborhood in the 80s and 90s when gang life and street nicknames were prominent. He started by saying gang members would give “the most fucked up names in the world”. He referenced local legends like “Trigger”, a guy who lost his trigger finger but still joined in every Fourth of July or New Year’s pretending to shoot with the rest of the crowd by pointing a knife in the air. “I didn’t want to get called like Lil Dumb or something. Fuck that.” He also mentioned a girl known as “Beetlejuice”, joking that her teeth were so wrecked she could “circumcise a chain-link fence.” He compared Boyle Heights and East L.A. to Mario Lopez and Danny Trejo, respectively. He talked about how his father played a pivotal role in steering him clear of gang life and Raider fandom, nudging him instead towards being a Coast Guard and 49ers fan. Although he jokes about his time serving pancakes as a Coast Guard, he said he has pride in his military service and how it got him off the streets.

For the past eight years, Noriega has been taking care of his mom. “I did 12 years in the Coast Guard. Unfortunately, I had to get out because my mother got diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and dementia.” He recalled moments when he had contemplated suicide, but lightened the mood by joking that “if any of the ladies in the audience had a nice set of titties” and saw someone looking down, they should “give ’em a little jiggle, give ’em a little shake” to remind them that life’s still worth living. “In the same time that I’ve been taking care of her, I’ve also become a better boyfriend,” he said, implying that he used humor to process his pain and foster growth. He thinks his personality may have come from his father, and proceeded to call his mom his very own coffee maker, joking that “it can also make two eggs, bacon, a stack of tortillas, and pasta”.

…he said. “He grew up in Mexicali, moved to L.A., and became a truck driver,” he said. “When I was 13, my dad saved up $20,000 to get us out of the hood, to move us to a nice fucking area.” The admiration only deepened when his father ended up giving that hard-earned money to a sick family member in need. “I want to give a shout out to all the fucking men out there who take care of their responsibilities and take care of their fucking family.”

Next up was MC Raider, who opened up with how marriage changes over time, for better or worse. “Fifteen years later, I’m like, Jesus Christ.” He recalled once wearing a purple Lakers jersey and his wife instantly clowning him.

He used to say cheesy things like, “I can’t breathe without you, babe”. Now, the magic has faded, replaced by routine arguments and passive-aggressiveness. He admits he sometimes dreads picking up the phone when she calls, and being honest about what she decides to wear. “I can’t say, ‘Oh, fuck it, try another one’. That would kill the whole day, bro.” Still, somewhere beneath the tension, there’s love.

He shared a moment from a Sunday when he decided to go to church, partly because the Raiders weren’t playing. On the way, they argued over a woman crossing the street. He made a sideways comment about her weight, and his wife misunderstood it as him insulting her. By the time they reached church, she had stormed ahead and sat at the altar, only to later act like nothing happened: “Hey babe, what are we gonna eat?”

And finally, the headliner of this esteemed comedy show went by the name of Richard Barba, and without hesitation, praised not only Wasupwu, but what the superior gender is. “Women, I realized you’re smarter, faster, stronger. You give life, you raise life, you are the superior gender,” but then shifted the tone by saying “Give it up for yourself [women], so by all means, look who you’re with, bitch. That’s your fault.” His act began with relatable commentary about long-term relationships, pointing out how a couple of three years in the audience was still touching each other while sitting, whereas an older couple wasn’t.

Barba recognized true love, and how different it’s expressed across races as well. “I don’t fuck with Latinas,” he said, saying they’re born with “bruja energy”. “If you’re a real Latina, you have a rubber band on your wrist.” He compared latinas to white women, who are less confrontational. “Have you guys ever watched that show, Cheaters? Remember that show?” he said, describing himself coming home with two tacos from Jack in the Box. “White girls, they find out like, ‘Oh, my God, Kevin, what happened? How did we get here? Oh, my God.’ Latinas? ‘Fuck you.’”

Barba spoke about living with five daughters and their mother, comparing the household to a hostage situation where emotions spread like an “airdrop” virus. “You got six in one house, though. You know what that’s like?” he asked.

He mentioned his lack of control, especially in the bathroom, where his single “hairy-ass soap” sits in a corner, outmatched by a number of women’s products. “You have so much soap in the fucking bathroom.” He also said what was on all of our minds: how different dating is for the younger generation. “[We] had clubs. [We] had fucking bars you can go to. Now, they just fucking swipe.” His comparison to new and old continued by reminiscing about needing to memorize phone numbers. “I had to know my wife’s phone number in order to fucking call her,” versus today’s reliance on smartphones.

Barba spoke about dodging “tweakers” in LA where “every overpass has a fucking old RV sitting on it with 35 fucking people living in it,” and navigating gang colors. “My brother’s in the opposite city. He’s wearing Ram shit,” giving the audience a raw example of what urban life is like.

The set ended with a tribute to Barba’s grandfather, who inspired his comedy career when he was just 12, before passing at the age of 85. Barba shared one of his grandfather’s favorite jokes about a retired couple vacationing in Huntington Beach. The wife tries on several bikinis, only to be teased by her husband, who eventually says, “Baby, I love you, but you look like a half-ripened, half-unripened banana.” After she storms out and returns completely naked, he finally declares, “That’s the one. You look absolutely amazing — but you might want to iron that motherfucker before.” The crowd laughed, and Barba closed with a heartfelt plug for Wasupwu Comedy, encouraging the audience to leave five-star Yelp and Google reviews “in order for us to continue to do these types of shows.”

This was my first live comedy show, and I’m glad it happened right here in the Imperial Valley. People say not much goes on out here, but I see things differently. I’ve been told I’m not weird, but I definitely feel outnumbered sometimes, and maybe that’s just in my head. To me, the real difference between rural and city life isn’t about resources, but mindset. I believe this place matters just as much as any city.

A better future won’t come from a place of similarity. It’ll be a newfound realization, the potential we hold together. As long as people are around, so are possibilities. We can gather, share meals, tell stories, and laugh out loud. We don’t need screens to feel alive, we just need each other. Imagine a local economy built around connection and creativity. With honest conversations and shared intention, we can move forward and create something better.

Each comedian I saw wasn’t just funny, they were performing necessary commentary on their neighborhoods, families, and themselves. From Chino’s long-term loyalty to the Chargers, to Luis’s deep and profound love for his mother, to Vic’s gritty upbringing and cultural commentary, to MC Raider’s unvarnished honesty about marriage, to Richard’s stories of understanding our differences, every laugh was layered with something that’s true inside all of us: a reminder that humor keeps us alive.

Justin Orsino

Want to support Citizen Journalists like Justin?
☕️ Buy Justin a coffee! 😊

read more from People's Press