25 Magazine covers the after-party of the 2009 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show viewing in Washington, DC.

Words by Stacy-Ann Ellis

What better way to follow up the viewing of the highly anticipated 2009 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show than with a service-inspired after-party. The event, hosted by Victoria’s Secret PINK interns, was held at Pasha Lounge in Washington, DC. The interns teamed up with Gatsby Entertainment, ParadiseExit.com, and Dreamers & Believers, promising freebies and giveaways to the event’s attendees.

Naturally, the Victoria’s Secret event brought out all the females. Clad in their best nightwear, the female crowd, speckled with dapperly dressed males, danced the night away to our generation’s most popular party tunes. Aside from PINK representing the widely popular lingerie line, the PINK theme also served as a way to promote breast cancer awareness in the midst of all the festivities.

Here are some photos from the night’s events:

25 Magazine hosts prohibition party to celebrate the repeal of the 18th Amendment.

Repealing the 18th Amendment made drinking legal in the United States. Join 25 Magazine this Saturday as we come together and celebrate at the Local 16 on U Street! 18+ are all welcome, but you must be 21+ to drink.

Come, drink (if you’re 21+), and be merry!

 Words by Lauren McEwen

After months of heated debates, the House of Representatives finally passed HR 3200, or America’s Affordable Health Choices Act of 2009 on Saturday, November 7, 2009.

Healthcare reform has been on the agenda of every President since most of us can remember. However, bipartisanship and hefty campaign contributions from healthcare insurance companies stamped out any hopes of change for a while.

During the 2008 Presidential campaign, President Obama made healthcare reform a major tier of his campaign. It was only trumped by the ongoing wars in the Middle East and the struggling economy.

To put those campaign promises into action, HR 3200 was introduced to the House on July 14, 2009 by Rep. John Dingell (D-MI15). It was to “provide affordable, quality health care for all Americans and reduce the growth in health care spending, and for other purposes.”

Although that summary of the bill sounds perfectly understandable, altruistic and just plain decent, discussion of the act morphed into a die-hard political debate that  consumed the news for months. Controversial topics such as providing healthcare for illegal immigrants and coverage of abortion were thrown into the works to complicate matters.

Finally, on Saturday, November 7, 2009 at 11:12 p.m. Democrats cheers were heard as the bill passed with a vote of 220 to 215. The only Republican to vote in favor of the bill was Rep. Joseph Cao of Louisiana.

Although an amendment that restricts coverage of abortion was thrown into the bill to appease pro-life politicians, any progress in the area of healthcare reform is welcomed.

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“Hello there Mr. Freeman,” said the secretary. “The Congressman is waiting for you through the door.” She pointed to the epic Oakwood double doors to my right and smiled mechanically. I couldn’t help but notice how young and gorgeous she was in her dull all-black business attire. It was clear that she was chosen to be his secretary more so because of her looks than her skills. After readjusting my suit one last time I went through the doors.

Sitting in an amber chair behind his desk, the congressman was shouting at someone on the other end of his cell phone. “The Grutter and Gratz cases aren’t going to affect the schools? Are you fucking kidding me? Read the damn reports again, for real this time, and call me back when you have a more educated opinion!” He slammed the phone to his desk, and after realizing he hadn’t turned it off, picked it up again to click the “End Talk” button. “Damn phones,” he muttered while looking at me. “Can’t just slam ‘em down when you’re pissed like the good old days.”

I stood motionless by the door, wondering what the hell I had just gotten myself into.

“Come in, sit down, don’t be shy. I’m sorry for the outburst young man.” He seemed weezy and short of breathe. I sat down the chair facing him in front of the desk, prepared to be interviewed by ‘the congressman’. He was a black man, at least 60, grey hairs, a dark Caesar, goatee and an expensive ass business suit that was worth at least 10 times more than mine.

“So, what is it that you’re here for?” he asked.

“Um, I would like a position working for you as an intern,” I said.

“You look a bit young,” he said trying to gauge my age.

“Uh, yes sir. I’m a college freshman.”

“As a college freshman, why would you want to work for a congressman this early?”

“Because sir, I’m dedicated to strengthening Democracy and helping out in any way I can.” I had practiced that line for weeks. It didn’t sound like me at all.

“Alright then. Let’s see what you got.” I assumed he was referring to my resume, so I took it out and handed it to him. He looked up and down at it and began typing something on his computer. “Ah I see Mr. Freeman, not bad.”

“I know, I try,” I said, thinking aloud.

He smirked, “Now as you may be aware Mr. Freeman not just anyone can get an internship from me. But I like what I see so far,” he said while looking at his computer screen.

Then there was silence for at least a minute. I was nervous as all hell. The large window towering over us reminded me of when I was forced to sit down in my high school principal’s office. But the backdrop of Capitol Hill made it look like I was also on an episode of the West Wing.

“What the hell is this,” he said all of a sudden. He couldn’t possibly be referring to something about me I thought—and hoped. “Can you explain this to me son?” He rotated his computer screen so I could see. It was my Facebook page.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkk.

In an enlarged photo, there was I, eyes red and blurry and caught slapping on some chick’s butt. I was also spilling a big bottle of Bacardi on myself. It was a picture from last night.

“No,” I whimpered. My hangover resurfaced and I wanted to hide.

His old eyes stared accusingly at me, and then the photo, then back at me and back at the photo. He laughed. “You know if your father wasn’t a close friend of mine this interview would be over! But as a friend of the family I’m obligated to teach you a few things before I kick you out the door.” The interview couldn’t have gone much worse than that.

“Don’t just stare at me. Defend yourself; explain to me how this picture came about.”

I wanted to tell him a finely fabricated lie to save myself but it was impossible. “I was at a house party.”

“The date on the photo says it was taken yesterday. Were you drinking that liquor in your hand last night? Were you drinking underage?”

“I can’t say, I don’t remember.”

“Oh boy.” He continued to laugh in between words. “I’m not angry at you for this photo. I’m just amazed. Nothing has changed on that campus since I went there.”

The congressman and my dad were close friends when they went to Howard together in the 60’s. They must have stopped being close after college because the congressman was never invited to our house, and this is the first time I’ve met him in person. My dad never went into much detail about their friendship, and now I’m starting to see why. “They used to party back then?”

“Yes of course! And believe me when I tell you, back in the day I was getting it in at those parties man!”

“Word?” I asked in disbelief.

“Oh yea! Me and your pops were…*cough* never mind that.” He rose out of his chair a little bit. “But those women…Got damn! I’m still trying to figure out how I married a white woman after all those years. And back in the 60’s love-making didn’t cost you—AIDS didn’t exist! Times were good.”

Too much information, I thought.

“But anyway, keep your partying in moderation.” He finally let go of his nostalgic memories. “Now back to the interview—let’s throw out the bullshit you said earlier about why you want to work for me. Why do you really want to work here?”

Well crap, he figured me all out. Another bullshit answer wouldn’t work, so what better way to tell the truth than by telling the truth?

“Why do I really want to work here? I want to work my way up the political ladder of course. Get some insider contacts, have a nice internship to put on my resume that correlates with my career. I want to be that guy that makes all the rules, be the big shot in the Mercedes with the trophy wife and tell everyone I was a big deal during my lifetime.” I’ve never been so honest.

“You want to be like me.”

“Definitely,” Definitely not like you though. Better than you.

“Well you’re on the right track. I’ve never seen such an honest kid walk through my doors before. Politicians are nothing but corrupt. You just have to learn to play your cards right and not get caught doing the wrong things—like getting drunk underage and having a picture of it online. That is the key to the success you want.”

Did the congressman just encourage me to be corrupt?

“Wow sir.”

“I know. It’s hard for your inexperienced ears to hear, but it’s the truth. Remember, I wouldn’t be telling you this if you weren’t my friend’s son. Everyone is corrupt. Being corrupt is being human—imperfect, biased and ignorant. You’re corrupt, your father’s corrupt, your mother, your future opponents, everyone. Can you acknowledge this fact? Nothing good can be achieved until you do a little bad.”

I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew there was some truth to what he said. He was a really old and experienced politician, how could he be wrong? I began to think of Barack Obama’s message of change and government transparency. If he won, how much could he really change? It’s in a politician’s nature to be corrupted by greed and the few that want to do positive things get shut down by the corrupt. Even this situation here, I don’t want to work for a congressman that will encourage my corruption. But this internship will really look good on my resume…

“I gotcha sir. I’ll do whatever it takes to do good.”

“Great. I would love to chitchat some more about Howard but I have to meet with a lobbyist in a couple of minutes. Come back next Saturday, same time, except without the hangover. I will see what you can do for me. And make sure to delete those Facebook files as well.”

“How did you figure I had a hangover?”

“I went to Howard, remember? Next Saturday.”

“Yes sir!” I rose from my chair and walked out. Was I proud of what just happened? No, I only got the job because he was friends with my father. He didn’t ask me about one single accomplishment. But it still felt great.

As I walked back through the oak double doors the congressman’s beautiful secretary greeted me again with a smile. Now I remembered seeing her face on campus. She was helping out one of the candidates during the election by handing out those flyers with the stupid ambiguous slogans that didn’t really mean shit.

“Welcome to the team,” she said. Apparently I was hired before I had even entered the building.

- Omari Evans