<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CkADRn04eSp7ImA9WhRUEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877</id><updated>2012-01-22T11:59:37.331-02:00</updated><category term="conto" /><category term="mini" /><category term="meu canto" /><category term="poucas" /><category term="poema" /><category term="as historias do amadeu" /><category term="cronica" /><title>ócio duro de roer</title><subtitle type="html">.....................................................................................................................................................................................far niente!!!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/cioDuroDeRoer" /><feedburner:info uri="cioduroderoer" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkADRn04cSp7ImA9WhRUEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7343126892775715802</id><published>2012-01-22T11:41:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T11:59:37.339-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-22T11:59:37.339-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="as historias do amadeu" /><title>As Histórias do Amadeu - Onde tudo começou</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7343126892775715802/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7343126892775715802&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7343126892775715802?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7343126892775715802?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/Bb1lL9zEL6M/2012_01_01_archive.html" title="As Histórias do Amadeu - Onde tudo começou" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sSyC3BBQwSg/TGSn-gGSDDI/AAAAAAAABDg/UcdHF354VbU/s72-c/Dominoes.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Amadeu é um cara simples. Aposentado, acorda diariamente as 06:30 para sua caminhada diária. Vez por outra ele caminha acompanhado do Carlos, que tem duas pontes de safena e não suporta exercícios físico. Caminha por que é obrigado: “Odeio suar!”, diria ele. Depois de caminhar, os dois sempre vão à praça pra jogar um dominózinho amigo. O local é freqüentado por vários senhores aposentados, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s0NrpendzyHUjfkpw9Wnku_y71s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s0NrpendzyHUjfkpw9Wnku_y71s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s0NrpendzyHUjfkpw9Wnku_y71s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/s0NrpendzyHUjfkpw9Wnku_y71s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/Bb1lL9zEL6M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#7343126892775715802</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAHQnw5fip7ImA9WhRVFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-6733012790495790248</id><published>2012-01-13T20:36:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T20:45:33.226-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-13T20:45:33.226-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>Retorno às postagens.  Constantemente em busca do ócio...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/6733012790495790248/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=6733012790495790248&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/6733012790495790248?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/6733012790495790248?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/92GAWohYing/2012_01_01_archive.html" title="Retorno às postagens.  Constantemente em busca do ócio..." /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><georss:featurename>São Paulo, Brasil</georss:featurename><georss:point>-23.5489433 -46.6388182</georss:point><georss:box>-23.8749538 -46.869311700000004 -23.222932800000002 -46.4083247</georss:box><content type="html">
          No retorno às postagens, vai um dos primeiros contos que escrevi e de que mais gosto. 




         NUNCA MAIS FELIZ

         Regina foi abordada na saída da boate,  às sete da manhã. As olheiras acusavam que a noite foi intensa, e o prazer também. Trabalhar era sua vida, mas o sonho ainda ia se tornar realidade. Adorava viver seu personagem, e o prazer, este era da representação.
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7BmpqiC3Zzuz4L1ggQH_lLCrc6M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7BmpqiC3Zzuz4L1ggQH_lLCrc6M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/92GAWohYing" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#6733012790495790248</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8ESHc6fSp7ImA9WhRVFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-2876841521655272390</id><published>2012-01-13T01:20:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T01:20:09.915-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-13T01:20:09.915-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/2876841521655272390/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=2876841521655272390&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/2876841521655272390?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/2876841521655272390?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/skXU2iB7kHY/2012_01_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Por enquanto, encontrando a melhor forma pra voltar ao ócio, agora com outros fundamentos...
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Heea8X4kHWY9Hi3UGcnTurc8vMY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Heea8X4kHWY9Hi3UGcnTurc8vMY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Heea8X4kHWY9Hi3UGcnTurc8vMY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Heea8X4kHWY9Hi3UGcnTurc8vMY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/skXU2iB7kHY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#2876841521655272390</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcEQ3szeyp7ImA9WxFaF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-2553988779335505215</id><published>2010-07-21T23:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T23:00:02.583-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-21T23:00:02.583-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="as historias do amadeu" /><title>AS HISTÓRIAS DO AMADEU - CUTÍCULA</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/2553988779335505215/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=2553988779335505215&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/2553988779335505215?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/2553988779335505215?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/2hTVoQGAuOY/2010_07_01_archive.html" title="AS HISTÓRIAS DO AMADEU - CUTÍCULA" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Na manicure, a Marilda se lamenta porque não pode acompanhar o marido que foi fazer um exame de sangue. Logo ela que se achava tão companheira, tão próxima do parceiro, e tão disponível, desconfiou que o Amadeu não queria que ela fosse com ele.- Neuza, o Amadeu anda meio estranho ultimamente, meio afastado, sabe. Tô sentindo ele meio distante. Não quer mais minha companhia pra nada. Cê acredita 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cigzzNYRPSe8jZEyupL5tIbX_F8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cigzzNYRPSe8jZEyupL5tIbX_F8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cigzzNYRPSe8jZEyupL5tIbX_F8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cigzzNYRPSe8jZEyupL5tIbX_F8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/2hTVoQGAuOY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html#2553988779335505215</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8NQ3gzcSp7ImA9WxFbGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-4876491474764759696</id><published>2010-07-10T20:48:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T21:24:52.689-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-10T21:24:52.689-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mini" /><title>BEM VINDO PUNHAL</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/4876491474764759696/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=4876491474764759696&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/4876491474764759696?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/4876491474764759696?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/yKqo5CjzqFc/2010_07_01_archive.html" title="BEM VINDO PUNHAL" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Aquele amor não existia na vida real, era fantasia. Os corpos não podiam se encontrar por menos de três horas. Sentiam uma terrível falta um do outro quando se iam. Os toques, os beijos e os cheiros iam tomando proporções maiores que seus desejos. Quando estavam juntos, no apartamento ou em qualquer lugar que seja, eles não pensavam. As mãos que tocavam seu corpo eram as mesmas que moldavam a 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MHh4dae9hzlbuRJo3UhhbSeGvl0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MHh4dae9hzlbuRJo3UhhbSeGvl0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/yKqo5CjzqFc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html#4876491474764759696</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAMRHszcSp7ImA9WxFXEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-3303457818655296992</id><published>2010-05-18T23:22:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T23:39:45.589-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-18T23:39:45.589-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cronica" /><title>NÓ DE GRAVATA</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/3303457818655296992/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=3303457818655296992&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/3303457818655296992?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/3303457818655296992?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/KvXlXrs2Lkc/2010_05_01_archive.html" title="NÓ DE GRAVATA" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">
Saímos cedo, por volta das 18h00. O horário de verão ajudava no percurso, porque dirigir à noite não era legal, nunca gostei. Ela vestia uma saia verde com listras brancas e uma blusa branca, gola careca. O salto discreto era baixo, e quem olhava de longe tinha a impressão de estar vendo uma mulher de estatura médio-alta. Colar e brincos de prata (eu acho) ornamentavam a silhueta em contraste à 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5B1eWOZHAb-kSgOE1CDllKiY344/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5B1eWOZHAb-kSgOE1CDllKiY344/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/KvXlXrs2Lkc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html#3303457818655296992</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UCR385eyp7ImA9WxFQFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7544401431920782545</id><published>2010-05-09T19:47:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T19:47:46.123-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-09T19:47:46.123-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7544401431920782545/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7544401431920782545&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7544401431920782545?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7544401431920782545?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/pQXDrPIwGz4/2010_05_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S-c7RD6cchI/AAAAAAAAARQ/4w-O_UNFEG8/s72-c/estadao.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Em busca do que?
http://www.estadao.com.br/saopaulo/
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-bGk51qnCZX5bUxJCS6HOu_vfsM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-bGk51qnCZX5bUxJCS6HOu_vfsM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-bGk51qnCZX5bUxJCS6HOu_vfsM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-bGk51qnCZX5bUxJCS6HOu_vfsM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/pQXDrPIwGz4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html#7544401431920782545</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8ERnc6fyp7ImA9WxFQE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-1802693736219644483</id><published>2010-05-09T01:03:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T01:03:27.917-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-09T01:03:27.917-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title>A SAGA DOS MINUTOS FINAIS</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/1802693736219644483/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=1802693736219644483&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/1802693736219644483?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/1802693736219644483?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/Qd7BHyvgBmk/2010_05_01_archive.html" title="A SAGA DOS MINUTOS FINAIS" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S-Y0A6vwHwI/AAAAAAAAAQg/Y7yKuKBNk6U/s72-c/GERA%C3%87%C3%83O+BEAT.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">
No 1.º minuto do momento final o Relógio da Praça atravessou solenemente a cidade em direção ao bairro mais longínquo, onde apoderou-se à força do ponto de ônibus, com a intenção de terminar para sempre com o reino do sofrimento e da angústia malcriada.
No 2.º minuto do momento final três vândalos tomaram um monomotor de assalto e levaram ao ponto mais alto da cidade, um letreiro com frases 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oLX52-4h0gxZJUM1clGK4rtDK1g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oLX52-4h0gxZJUM1clGK4rtDK1g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/Qd7BHyvgBmk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html#1802693736219644483</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQMSH4zeyp7ImA9WxFSEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7067453664888338044</id><published>2010-04-12T23:39:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T23:39:49.083-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-12T23:39:49.083-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mini" /><title>O CIRCO</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7067453664888338044/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7067453664888338044&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7067453664888338044?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7067453664888338044?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/mPYVLEKFNek/2010_04_01_archive.html" title="O CIRCO" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">No último espetáculo do ano quem pinta o rosto pro trabalho fez a melhor piada. Quis que o trapezista resolvesse uma equação aritmética de ponta cabeça enquanto fazia suas acrobacias lá nas barras suspensas. O resultado deveria ser o número de vezes que o contorcionista desapareceria do picadeiro. Obra do mágico que tinha feito uma aposta com a mulher barbada - quem perdesse iria entrar na jaula 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lf8l3jv1f3v-I-hG53nWktbF_70/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lf8l3jv1f3v-I-hG53nWktbF_70/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/mPYVLEKFNek" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html#7067453664888338044</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ICQnw7eCp7ImA9WxBaEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-2800396482974432179</id><published>2010-03-21T23:39:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T23:39:23.200-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-21T23:39:23.200-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>PASTA DE LONA</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/2800396482974432179/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=2800396482974432179&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/2800396482974432179?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/2800396482974432179?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/hNfrzCzIoeY/2010_03_01_archive.html" title="PASTA DE LONA" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">A caminhada não era tortuosa nem longa, pelo contrário, era acolhedora mesmo diante daquele amontoado fétido do entulho que havia se deitado sobre tudo.Aquele homem era há muitos anos o amigo preferido do ex-pastor. Ambos eram muito ligados. Ele, apesar de procurar incansavelmente, não conseguiu encontrar nada inteiro, e pelo estrago, não existia nenhuma possibilidade de resgatar ninguém com vida
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KjvFts9DDZzC-tItP52myJH6hO4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KjvFts9DDZzC-tItP52myJH6hO4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KjvFts9DDZzC-tItP52myJH6hO4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KjvFts9DDZzC-tItP52myJH6hO4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/hNfrzCzIoeY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#2800396482974432179</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMERn0-eip7ImA9WxBUGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7868641996842639655</id><published>2010-03-06T20:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T20:00:07.352-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-06T20:00:07.352-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poema" /><title>CLARABÓIA</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7868641996842639655/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7868641996842639655&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7868641996842639655?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7868641996842639655?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/KfXsyrHLsLU/2010_03_01_archive.html" title="CLARABÓIA" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">Sinceramente esperei pela chuva hoje, pela garoa ao menosMas ela teimou em não virTeimosia tem limites.Seria o fim se fosse dormir sem vê-las, gotasNa esperança, abrem-se as vidraças e ao olho nú, tingi-se o céu de um fundo breuCarregado de olhos vidrados nos nobres eunucos possuidores da mais intensa carga de tesãoNão poderei deitar-me, sem apetecer reagir ao tempo bom.O recurso é a lúdica 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UI4zXjWRQk-eJGJInnEWgmNrEaU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UI4zXjWRQk-eJGJInnEWgmNrEaU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/KfXsyrHLsLU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#7868641996842639655</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYHSX8yfyp7ImA9WxBWF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7307654118807951245</id><published>2010-02-09T20:50:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T21:28:58.197-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-09T21:28:58.197-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cronica" /><title>CORTAR E GRUDAR</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7307654118807951245/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7307654118807951245&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7307654118807951245?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7307654118807951245?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/hrpE8PuCUPE/2010_02_01_archive.html" title="CORTAR E GRUDAR" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">Alguém disse que ela não viria mais. Havia desistido. Mesmo porque, depois das duas primeiras aulas, acho qualquer um na sua mais plena consciência perceberia que aquele curso...  Eu mesmo tinha comigo que ela sempre foi meio relapsa sim. Várias vezes ao nos encontrarmos eu percebi uma certa arrogância vindo dela. Sabe quando a pessoa chega no mesmo lugar que você está, te olha fundo nos olhos e 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vrRwKolDB37Xw88-TtnXPYMFo0M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/vrRwKolDB37Xw88-TtnXPYMFo0M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/hrpE8PuCUPE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#7307654118807951245</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcGQnsyfyp7ImA9WxBXFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7982750976043697566</id><published>2010-01-25T22:27:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T22:33:43.597-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-25T22:33:43.597-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title>Fazer nada - Estadao.com.br</title><link rel="related" href="http://www.estadao.com.br/noticias/suplementos,fazer-nada,500131,0.htm" title="Fazer nada - Estadao.com.br" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7982750976043697566/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7982750976043697566&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7982750976043697566?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7982750976043697566?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/rzUNeBPEikI/2010_01_01_archive.html" title="Fazer nada - Estadao.com.br" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html"> Vejam texto do Luiz Fernando Veríssimo, meu companheiro de ócio...zzz...Fazer nada - Estadao.com.br
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ySwTb7Da0vpdr1sG1MbccDI993o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ySwTb7Da0vpdr1sG1MbccDI993o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ySwTb7Da0vpdr1sG1MbccDI993o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ySwTb7Da0vpdr1sG1MbccDI993o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/rzUNeBPEikI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#7982750976043697566</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEFRH86eip7ImA9WxBQEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-1360875987792261248</id><published>2010-01-09T01:15:00.006-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T11:26:55.112-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-09T11:26:55.112-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/1360875987792261248/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=1360875987792261248&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/1360875987792261248?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/1360875987792261248?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/pZBVYfGdhKo/2010_01_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S0gXf7wNPzI/AAAAAAAAANY/PRZTXkdqw0M/s72-c/vida+simples.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Cara nova! Tá melhorando o aspecto do blog - pelo menos eu acho que ficou mais leve, mais limpo. Mais a ver com a proposta. Sim, porque a informação seja lá de qual for a mídia, deve dar prazer. E prazer foi o que encontrei lendo uma matéria no site da revista Vida Simples, sobre morar em comunidade. A reportagem é sobre uma vila de casas em São Paulo, onde o segredo é viver em comunhão com os 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HVDHDphyZQMW0lUOx8byY-LN74U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HVDHDphyZQMW0lUOx8byY-LN74U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/pZBVYfGdhKo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#1360875987792261248</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ICRH4yeSp7ImA9WxBRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-5543380079254521254</id><published>2010-01-08T00:23:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T00:59:25.091-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-08T00:59:25.091-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title>CORES, ALEGRIA E SUOR... MUITO SUOR!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/5543380079254521254/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=5543380079254521254&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/5543380079254521254?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/5543380079254521254?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/-TxSd11Mqkk/2010_01_01_archive.html" title="CORES, ALEGRIA E SUOR... MUITO SUOR!" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S0ad22icNXI/AAAAAAAAAM4/WpeXEAW3hrU/s72-c/circo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Depois de um tempo fora do mundo virtual, retomo o contato com o mundo através da rede, mas sem a noção de que altura me encontro. Cair na rede é algo inevitável, e o trapézio de nossas vidas é altamente (sem trocadilho) instável. Cá estou de volta, ora com a cara pintada - escondendo mina ira -, ora com a cara limpa e preso junto aos leões; e por vezes muitas, com vontade de me entregar ao ócio 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EbMJaRnuf0J4Kdrs2_8ek4wZO0M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EbMJaRnuf0J4Kdrs2_8ek4wZO0M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/-TxSd11Mqkk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#5543380079254521254</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IBQX4zeyp7ImA9WxNRE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7020594673925148437</id><published>2009-09-07T18:03:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T20:19:10.083-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-07T20:19:10.083-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>OMBRO PERTO DO QUEIXO</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7020594673925148437/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7020594673925148437&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7020594673925148437?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7020594673925148437?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/YAjX6OF_qXc/2009_09_01_archive.html" title="OMBRO PERTO DO QUEIXO" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Quando abri os olhos vi as copas das árvores. Eu não conseguia me mexer direito. Aquela sensação voltou e eu ficava sem entender nada quando acontecia, só depois. O gosto amargo na boca prevalecia sempre, e eu conseguia fazer um único movimento lateral com o braço direito, como se estivesse limpando a boca com o lado externo do punho, mas com o braço mais esticado e duro, e o ombro perto do 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I-Fm41hbvtOCpahgQCexI7oBmzM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I-Fm41hbvtOCpahgQCexI7oBmzM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/YAjX6OF_qXc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html#7020594673925148437</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08HRXs-fCp7ImA9WxNSE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-8961083541617326254</id><published>2009-08-26T23:47:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T23:57:14.554-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-26T23:57:14.554-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>PAULO E LEILA</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/8961083541617326254/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=8961083541617326254&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/8961083541617326254?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/8961083541617326254?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/a_VYIRfp4Fk/2009_08_01_archive.html" title="PAULO E LEILA" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Desceu as escadas e trancou a porta. Depois saiu andando pela calçada como de costume.    Entretanto naquele dia, por ali, não havia nenhum sinal de vida. Por um instante parou e ouviu apenas o silêncio. Não podia ouvir sequer, o som de alguém respirando. Só ouvia o nada.  Nenhum carro em movimento, nenhum menino no farol, nenhuma loja, farmácia, bar aberto. “Que merda aconteceu?”. Saiu correndo 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DIhDQzOJb6-lB0zAMCQxTKExXrU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DIhDQzOJb6-lB0zAMCQxTKExXrU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/a_VYIRfp4Fk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html#8961083541617326254</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IMQ3o7fSp7ImA9WxJbFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-231270726051506113</id><published>2009-07-24T22:30:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T22:33:02.405-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-24T22:33:02.405-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="as historias do amadeu" /><title>As Histórias do Amadeu</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/231270726051506113/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=231270726051506113&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/231270726051506113?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/231270726051506113?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/ttEMTjY9J_Q/2009_07_01_archive.html" title="As Histórias do Amadeu" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">Na época em que parou de trabalhar, o Amadeu não ligava muito pra isso de tecnologia. Male-male usava o controle-remoto do videocassete – sensação da época. A Flavinha sua filha, era a responsável por ler, entender e repassar aos pais, todas as informações dos manuais, além de por as coisas pra funcionar. Mas depois que foi embora morar com o namorado, deixou pai e mãe órfãos nessa questão. A 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l38RTMg9njhyyBHvUmK4wCW67Zc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l38RTMg9njhyyBHvUmK4wCW67Zc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/ttEMTjY9J_Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#231270726051506113</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUCQXc9fyp7ImA9WxJUEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-5982085085877545885</id><published>2009-07-10T16:22:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T16:31:00.967-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-10T16:31:00.967-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>IMPACIÊNCIA TOLERADA</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/5982085085877545885/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=5982085085877545885&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/5982085085877545885?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/5982085085877545885?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/BbIrbNwVyE4/2009_07_01_archive.html" title="IMPACIÊNCIA TOLERADA" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Uma amiga esses dias me contou a seguinte história:  “Pensei que era porque eu era mulher, mas prestando bem atenção, percebi que não acontece só comigo não, graças à Deus! A coisa é generalizada, e acontece com qualquer um.   Porque quando você está parado no farol, sempre tem um que buzina quando acende a luz verde? Não é incrível a coincidência? Pode prestar atenção. Acendeu o verde uma buzina
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AdozgEaEGpVMKzF5shNyDmefbJQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AdozgEaEGpVMKzF5shNyDmefbJQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/BbIrbNwVyE4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#5982085085877545885</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4BQ3g4eSp7ImA9WxJSGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-8398451785002959678</id><published>2009-05-08T22:32:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T23:09:12.631-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-08T23:09:12.631-03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poema" /><title>batom</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/8398451785002959678/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=8398451785002959678&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/8398451785002959678?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/8398451785002959678?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/YgJ5ULx1bUs/2009_05_01_archive.html" title="batom" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/SgTlvIlBSwI/AAAAAAAAALo/Bma96VxtezM/s72-c/Batom.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Tua força me remete ao singelo detalhe, feito conta-gotas a despejar-se em minha língua.Disposto a mais intensa descrição, toca-me com sutil irmandade e querendo fazer parte de mim como a mizinha de um violão.Lembra daquele dia em que teimoso, insistia em ficar pra sempre em meu pescoço?E por quantas vezes te derrotei ao tirar-lhe da boca alheia?Perdeu batom, mas ganhei-te.
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LZLtFQRW2rLQcHt_GkCMV-jOMqQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LZLtFQRW2rLQcHt_GkCMV-jOMqQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/YgJ5ULx1bUs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html#8398451785002959678</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMGQn86eyp7ImA9WxJTF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-261900949919603653</id><published>2009-04-26T01:33:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T01:33:43.113-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-26T01:33:43.113-03:00</app:edited><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/261900949919603653/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=261900949919603653&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/261900949919603653?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/261900949919603653?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/5D_Z-pSmpO4/2009_04_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html"> CONVERSAS NO TEMPO DE MSN (ASSIM MESMO SEM PONTUAÇÃO SEM NADA)- oi, estou sem telefone ...- ok. tá tudo bem?- tá. - tô te passando uns e-mails de  preço de TV dá uma olhada aí-  eu recebi tb.-  eaí, vamos encarar uma de 22" - com  + 200 real encaro uma de 26- pode ser também-  e para o quarto?-  vai a nossa! -  e para a sala de jantar?-  rsrsrs-  ri não. é sério-  essa piscada foi legal... -  
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XpDOWhdmq7KXYs7D4X_5HXjIyNI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XpDOWhdmq7KXYs7D4X_5HXjIyNI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/5D_Z-pSmpO4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html#261900949919603653</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEMSHs6cSp7ImA9WxVWFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-8126522850343176358</id><published>2009-02-23T17:30:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T17:58:09.519-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-23T17:58:09.519-03:00</app:edited><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/8126522850343176358/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=8126522850343176358&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/8126522850343176358?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/8126522850343176358?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/5Wgz1hM5dD8/2009_02_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/SaMNwk3BRJI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/umNCEyXoqe8/s72-c/veneza.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">o ócio me desprende da carne... "cArne vAle!"
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2QNjsIO79yxSfu-f0mC3ddMkav4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2QNjsIO79yxSfu-f0mC3ddMkav4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/5Wgz1hM5dD8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#8126522850343176358</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAERH05eip7ImA9WxVXE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-7500480422923456863</id><published>2009-02-11T21:07:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:08:25.322-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-11T21:08:25.322-02:00</app:edited><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/7500480422923456863/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=7500480422923456863&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7500480422923456863?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/7500480422923456863?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/zjKR6bWYILE/2009_02_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Tô voltando.... peraí!!!
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-9rWr4SSMQNtTFOKPUZXz66Jy8c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-9rWr4SSMQNtTFOKPUZXz66Jy8c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/zjKR6bWYILE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#7500480422923456863</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMESH4zeyp7ImA9WxVTE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-4257233048190391776</id><published>2008-12-27T12:38:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T13:06:49.083-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-27T13:06:49.083-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conto" /><title>IMAGENS</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/4257233048190391776/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=4257233048190391776&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/4257233048190391776?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/4257233048190391776?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/f3mS3km0ElU/2008_12_01_archive.html" title="IMAGENS" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/SVZC003aCfI/AAAAAAAAAIE/-XECa3Fv8gk/s72-c/CA65O30OCAEDQL3ECAMG7FQ1CA5V2F72CA3QIH8ACAATS27ZCA5YO152CAMCFH9ECA4OMEV2CALNNN7ECAXXTQDYCABUM962CA0WDZGHCA1JEFT3CAT1K0T8CAXBW964CAGD7CLJCAYP28MTCAIJ3TMNCAOKJQIE.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><content type="html">Enquanto tomo um café em pé, colado no balcão, vejo em sã consciência que as pessoas por aqui, não andam, elas perambulam. Sim, perambulam, com suas frivolidades e de mãos dadas à inocência de quem incansavelmente espera na fila para uma foto com o Papai Noel. E pagam por isso. Uma foto ao lado do velho bonachão de barbas brancas custa cinco reais.Engraçado como as pessoas estão ansiosas e ao 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mWsSQRbVkUf1snwndTY04Kfxamg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mWsSQRbVkUf1snwndTY04Kfxamg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~4/f3mS3km0ElU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html#4257233048190391776</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQAR30_fCp7ImA9WxRUGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161628064733229877.post-427585281384480637</id><published>2008-11-27T23:15:00.004-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T23:55:46.344-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-27T23:55:46.344-02:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poucas" /><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ocioduroderoer.blogspot.com/feeds/427585281384480637/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161628064733229877&amp;postID=427585281384480637&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/427585281384480637?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161628064733229877/posts/default/427585281384480637?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/cioDuroDeRoer/~3/128uQN-rKs8/2008_11_01_archive.html" title="" /><author><name>Ed Santos</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/S14ywaiphCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/46vKXtZO2zk/S220/P1180597.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RTAdyX-b4-k/SS9PUq1tpRI/AAAAAAAAAHk/xuzjtJtLj3Q/s72-c/metralhas.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Culpa, sei que tenho. Quero ver me condenar!
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