<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322</id><updated>2011-08-01T17:31:51.809-03:00</updated><category term='Guto L. F.'/><category term='Autor Convidado'/><category term='rodrigolink'/><category term='Marcus Santiago'/><category term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Contículos</title><subtitle type='html'>Contículos escritos por menínulos sapéculos.&lt;br&gt;Um miniconto por dia. E só.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>424</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2271537500522251638</id><published>2011-06-15T16:09:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T16:09:22.534-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marcus Santiago'/><title type='text'>Bonitinha...</title><content type='html'>...mas peidorreira.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2271537500522251638?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2271537500522251638&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2271537500522251638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2271537500522251638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2011/06/bonitinha.html' title='Bonitinha...'/><author><name>Marcus Santiago</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12437388608721369681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_UG3BgYn69-4/SHJOFvQ7K8I/AAAAAAAAAAM/1ZXWzMDXjsQ/S220/Vini.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-432102076772704182</id><published>2011-06-14T09:33:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T09:38:38.425-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marcus Santiago'/><title type='text'>Um ponto Quatro graus em São José dos Ausentes.</title><content type='html'>Agora entendo porque não tem nenhum José nessa cidade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-432102076772704182?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=432102076772704182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/432102076772704182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/432102076772704182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2011/06/um-ponto-quatro-graus-em-sao-jose-dos.html' title='Um ponto Quatro graus em São José dos Ausentes.'/><author><name>Marcus Santiago</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12437388608721369681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_UG3BgYn69-4/SHJOFvQ7K8I/AAAAAAAAAAM/1ZXWzMDXjsQ/S220/Vini.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4128116758027668954</id><published>2010-03-24T23:07:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:46:29.115-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Empacar</title><content type='html'>Definição para, entre tantas letras e palavras, não encontrar sentido algum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4128116758027668954?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4128116758027668954&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4128116758027668954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4128116758027668954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2010/03/empacar.html' title='Empacar'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4520374637440924833</id><published>2010-03-06T10:31:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:46:59.029-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Piloto aposentado</title><content type='html'>Decolando em casa somente com ajuda de instrumentos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4520374637440924833?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4520374637440924833&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4520374637440924833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4520374637440924833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2010/03/piloto-aposentado.html' title='Piloto aposentado'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-895519416418012432</id><published>2009-09-01T20:46:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:57:00.839-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>no title</title><content type='html'>minha mente voa, ela gira&lt;br /&gt;minha cabeça não para&lt;br /&gt;só tenho dúvidas&lt;br /&gt;quando eu fiquei tão séria e tão dura?&lt;br /&gt;alivia, sopra, alivia&lt;br /&gt;tempestade, acalma essa ventania&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-895519416418012432?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=895519416418012432&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/895519416418012432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/895519416418012432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-title.html' title='no title'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2713772163105052468</id><published>2009-08-26T19:56:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:48:23.742-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Amores Imperfeitos</title><content type='html'>Tudo lindo. Tudo azul. Eventos divertidos. Passeios gostosos. Amor e romance. Um final de semana que parecia perfeito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Domingo a noite, antes de durmir, o celular toca. Um toque que consegue diminuir todo esse sentimento. Raiva? Medo? Não. Angústia do incerto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Será que é ilusão acreditar que existe perfeição?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2713772163105052468?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2713772163105052468&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2713772163105052468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2713772163105052468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/amores-imperfeitos.html' title='Amores Imperfeitos'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5340066316383424748</id><published>2009-08-21T00:00:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:49:44.035-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Efeito "Caminho das Indias"</title><content type='html'>amigas:&lt;br /&gt;Estou de volta do meu retiro espiritual de uma semana.&lt;br /&gt;Foram dias maravilhosos onde encontrei o meu verdadeiro eu.&lt;br /&gt;Espero que vcs não estranhem minha aparência, pois desapeguei do mundo concreto, da sociedade líquida e dos bens de consumo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On na marra chiva&lt;br /&gt;On na marra chiva&lt;br /&gt;Chiva on na ma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entendo a descrença de vcs diante das minhas palavras, pois ainda estão apegadas aos hábitos e costumes contemporâneos. Darei o tempo necessário para a evolução do espírito de cada uma de vcs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Namastê, Glau&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Glaucia Martins)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5340066316383424748?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5340066316383424748&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5340066316383424748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5340066316383424748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/efeito-caminho-das-indias.html' title='Efeito &quot;Caminho das Indias&quot;'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6450256906502885493</id><published>2009-08-20T13:56:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:50:26.992-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Retiro Espiritual</title><content type='html'>O som deste mundo virtual não é nada espiritual.&lt;br /&gt;É somente do tik tik tik do teclado.&lt;br /&gt;As horas passam, os dias passam, as semanas se vão e nunca mais falamos bobagens com os amigos.&lt;br /&gt;Agora, só lemos muitas bobagens dos amigos.&lt;br /&gt;Será que o mundo vai acabar assim?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Dani Pandolfo)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6450256906502885493?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6450256906502885493&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6450256906502885493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6450256906502885493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/retiro-espiritual.html' title='Retiro Espiritual'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4491411296192630588</id><published>2009-08-18T14:59:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:50:47.472-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Sentimentos #06</title><content type='html'>A angústia da vida, me angustia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4491411296192630588?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4491411296192630588&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4491411296192630588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4491411296192630588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/sentimentos-06.html' title='Sentimentos #06'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5864236025895871330</id><published>2009-08-14T18:25:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:51:01.648-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>#Sentimentos: Folga!</title><content type='html'>Nada como um dia de inverno: quente e ensolarado. Veranico de inverno!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5864236025895871330?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5864236025895871330&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5864236025895871330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5864236025895871330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/sentimentos-folga.html' title='#Sentimentos: Folga!'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-148686564632197944</id><published>2009-08-13T00:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:51:17.275-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Cuide de você 2</title><content type='html'>Caro Sr. X,&lt;br /&gt;Agradecemos o contato. Sua opinião é muito importante para nós. Por favor, aguarde na linha enquanto verifico suas informações.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Aguarde mais um pouco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Só mais um pouco, sr. X.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por favor, anote o protocolo do seu pedido. Nosso sistema não está conectando, nos impedindo de registrar essa ligação. Por favor, tente entrar em contato mais tarde. Mais informações no nosso site: &lt;a href="http://www.vaamerdaseucagao.com.br/"&gt;www.vaamerdaseucagao.com.br&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obrigada. E se puderes, aguarde na linha para fazer uma avaliação do nosso atendimento. Boa tarde.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-148686564632197944?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=148686564632197944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/148686564632197944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/148686564632197944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/cuide-de-voce-2.html' title='Cuide de você 2'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1101459622763331616</id><published>2009-08-12T00:00:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:51:37.397-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Cuide de você</title><content type='html'>X, acabou tudo por carta.&lt;br /&gt;X, não teve coragem de olhar no meu olho, e dizer o que sentia.&lt;br /&gt;X, não tem obrigação de cuidar de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Mas, X, já cuidava do meu coração.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E agora, X?&lt;br /&gt;O meu coração é puro sentimento, e ele é analfabeto. Só entende as palavras ditas. E não está compreendendo as minhas lamentações.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Será que alguém me ajuda pra traduzir esse recado? Alguém me ajuda a cuidar de mim?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1101459622763331616?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1101459622763331616&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1101459622763331616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1101459622763331616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/cuide-de-voce.html' title='Cuide de você'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8644842835019230837</id><published>2009-08-11T19:44:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:51:57.809-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Inverno 5</title><content type='html'>Frio combina com tudo que é quente: vinho, cobertor, comidas gordinhas, estufa, casacos, tapetes... Isso é físico ou psicológico? O que importa? No final, todos querem a mesma coisa para enfrentar a estação: um cobertor (de orelha)...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8644842835019230837?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8644842835019230837&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8644842835019230837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8644842835019230837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/inverno-5.html' title='Inverno 5'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3773366076256290151</id><published>2009-08-10T19:10:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:52:45.286-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Inverno 4</title><content type='html'>Nada melhor do que um dia frio e chuvoso em Porto Alegre, quando se está bem longe, em uma cidade com sol e calor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3773366076256290151?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3773366076256290151&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3773366076256290151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3773366076256290151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/inverno-4.html' title='Inverno 4'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5795512384826800810</id><published>2009-08-09T00:01:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:57:24.800-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>200Inove</title><content type='html'>Novos priminhos, casa nova, emprego novo, amigas reunidas, viagens e mais viagens...&lt;br /&gt;o mundo pode estar caindo aos pedaços, mas tudo na vida é uma questão de perspectiva.&lt;br /&gt;E por isso: sim, tudo na vida tem um lado positivo. Basta encontrar o seu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5795512384826800810?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5795512384826800810&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5795512384826800810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5795512384826800810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/200inove.html' title='200Inove'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6972530312761978768</id><published>2009-08-08T00:00:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:59:39.124-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>2009</title><content type='html'>Crise, febre amarela, frio intenso, gripe suína, sarney...&lt;br /&gt;Se tudo na vida tem um lado positivo, não estou enxergando o desse ano...&lt;br /&gt;Chega 2010.&lt;br /&gt;Tenho até medo do que mais possa acontecer.&lt;br /&gt;Afinal, nada está tão ruim que não possa piorar...&lt;br /&gt;Será?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6972530312761978768?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6972530312761978768&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6972530312761978768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6972530312761978768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/2009.html' title='2009'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1387518000480156070</id><published>2009-08-07T21:06:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:01:29.420-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Inverno 3</title><content type='html'>Juju adora frio, e sempre espera ansiosa por essa época do ano. Nada de agitação. Seu programa preferido é ficar em casa, debaixo das cobertas, bem quentinha com seu lençol elétrico. E bem agarradinha com Rodrigo, seu dono. Mas que gatinha manhosa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1387518000480156070?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1387518000480156070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1387518000480156070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1387518000480156070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/inverno-3.html' title='Inverno 3'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-264329018788303583</id><published>2009-08-06T00:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:04:51.909-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Gripe</title><content type='html'>Estado de saúde alterado, muita febre e pânico.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-264329018788303583?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=264329018788303583&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/264329018788303583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/264329018788303583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/gripe.html' title='Gripe'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6181750904775577961</id><published>2009-08-05T08:00:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:02:27.220-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Sensações</title><content type='html'>Abra a porta do seu coraçao.&lt;br /&gt;Para o amor. Para o mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só não esqueça de fechar bem no inverno.&lt;br /&gt;Ele não aguenta baixas temperaturas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6181750904775577961?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6181750904775577961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6181750904775577961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6181750904775577961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/sensacoes.html' title='Sensações'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8465970266845877749</id><published>2009-08-04T08:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:02:13.502-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Inverno 2</title><content type='html'>Está tão frio lá fora, que agora até porco espirra.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8465970266845877749?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8465970266845877749&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8465970266845877749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8465970266845877749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/inverno-2.html' title='Inverno 2'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5014216183769774352</id><published>2009-08-03T08:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:02:00.193-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Quatro Estações</title><content type='html'>Gostinho de quero mais, da estaçao que já passou.&lt;br /&gt;Gostinho de desejo daquela estação que está por vir.&lt;br /&gt;Gostinho de quem não aguenta mais essa estação.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5014216183769774352?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5014216183769774352&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5014216183769774352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5014216183769774352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/quatro-estacoes.html' title='Quatro Estações'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1983249643604269395</id><published>2009-08-02T20:44:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:01:45.754-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Inverno</title><content type='html'>Sol quente&lt;br /&gt;que aquece meus pensamentos&lt;br /&gt;Já o meu pé&lt;br /&gt;continua gelado&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1983249643604269395?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1983249643604269395&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1983249643604269395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1983249643604269395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/08/inverno.html' title='Inverno'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2270766656585768168</id><published>2009-06-10T13:00:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:05:28.191-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Moda</title><content type='html'>Preto, tons violáceos e variações de marrom. Nunca um mendigo espancado apresentara tanto estilo no IML.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2270766656585768168?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2270766656585768168&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2270766656585768168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2270766656585768168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/06/moda.html' title='Moda'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8924175887195556288</id><published>2009-06-09T12:49:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:05:44.385-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Liberdade</title><content type='html'>Lépido e faceiro, ia seguindo pela calçada. A cada pouco, dava uma bela cheirada e  aquela mijadinha no poste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, gozava de toda liberdade que se pode ter, até que foi encontrado e levado de volta a clínica de reabilitação.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8924175887195556288?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8924175887195556288&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8924175887195556288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8924175887195556288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/06/liberdade.html' title='Liberdade'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7448940521662359574</id><published>2009-06-08T17:04:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:05:55.988-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Mande notícias</title><content type='html'>...suplicou o editor à sua correspondente internacional.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7448940521662359574?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7448940521662359574&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7448940521662359574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7448940521662359574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/06/mande-noticias.html' title='Mande notícias'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3811461390617447521</id><published>2009-06-04T14:14:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:07:01.127-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Crise dos 30</title><content type='html'>Parece que tem alguma a coisa a ver com casamento, carreira, filhos e sorvete de chocolate. Mas não tenho certeza ainda quanto aos três primeiros.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3811461390617447521?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3811461390617447521&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3811461390617447521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3811461390617447521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/06/crise-dos-30.html' title='Crise dos 30'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-9196010696624709673</id><published>2009-05-26T13:56:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:09:10.944-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Do pó viemos, e ao pó retornaremos</title><content type='html'>Sim, porque passar um paninho na casa nem pensar, né?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-9196010696624709673?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=9196010696624709673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/9196010696624709673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/9196010696624709673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/do-po-viemos-e-ao-po-retornaremos.html' title='Do pó viemos, e ao pó retornaremos'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4196333368075403130</id><published>2009-05-25T09:15:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:09:25.283-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Bêbado</title><content type='html'>Seguiu as instruções do guarda de trânsito a risca ... ou melhor, zigue-zagueando sobre a risca.&lt;br /&gt;Foi preso.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4196333368075403130?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4196333368075403130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4196333368075403130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4196333368075403130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/bebado.html' title='Bêbado'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2869972085790968063</id><published>2009-05-24T17:33:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:09:41.095-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Sem inspiração</title><content type='html'>Uma tela em branco. Um word sem palavras. Um blog desatualizado. O twitter sem caracteres.&lt;br /&gt;Falta de tempo? Não, é mais do que isso.&lt;br /&gt;Um silêncio mental, criado por uma cabeça inquieta por assuntos inúteis.&lt;br /&gt;Em outras palavras, sem foco.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2869972085790968063?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2869972085790968063&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2869972085790968063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2869972085790968063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/sem-inspiracao.html' title='Sem inspiração'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8133664600614570767</id><published>2009-05-23T23:06:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:09:53.702-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Fases</title><content type='html'>De um jogo? Da lua?&lt;br /&gt;Não, da vida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8133664600614570767?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8133664600614570767&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8133664600614570767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8133664600614570767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/fases.html' title='Fases'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8645899287883226661</id><published>2009-05-15T12:53:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:10:08.365-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Frente Fria</title><content type='html'>Costas quentes, dormindo de conchinha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8645899287883226661?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8645899287883226661&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8645899287883226661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8645899287883226661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/frente-fria.html' title='Frente Fria'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3533840625634844776</id><published>2009-05-02T23:21:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:10:27.480-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Baile de Carnaval</title><content type='html'>Como ficava ao lado da rodoviária, o &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Star’&lt;/span&gt;s foi o destino da estudantada que aguardava a saída do ônibus. Afinal era carnaval e mesmo limpando o sebo do copo e sujando a boca de farinha com o churrasco de esquina, o &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Star’s&lt;/span&gt; era uma saída. Ela dançava trêbada e suja, ostentando a magreza cada dia mais cadavérica. Chorava pelo churrasquinho negado e pela febre insistente. No banheiro, aceitou ser tomada, mesmo percebendo o estouro do preservativo. Sorria por sentir o odor de perfume caro e pelo cheiro da vingança: _ Na carne me perdi, pela carne entristeci!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Giuliano Santos)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3533840625634844776?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3533840625634844776&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3533840625634844776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3533840625634844776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/baile-de-carnaval.html' title='Baile de Carnaval'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8018950458842945367</id><published>2009-05-01T11:11:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:10:41.799-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Saúde pública</title><content type='html'>- Atchiiiiiiiim!&lt;br /&gt;- Deixa de ser porco!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8018950458842945367?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8018950458842945367&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8018950458842945367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8018950458842945367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/05/saude-publica.html' title='Saúde pública'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1951030862651640374</id><published>2009-04-30T22:52:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:10:53.185-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Feriado</title><content type='html'>Férias bem curtas, onde se passa mais da metade do tempo viajando.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1951030862651640374?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1951030862651640374&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1951030862651640374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1951030862651640374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/feriado.html' title='Feriado'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3475575011687980863</id><published>2009-04-29T23:31:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:11:10.455-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Dores nas costas</title><content type='html'>João não aguentava mais. Decidiu, depois de muito relutar, que precisava ir ao médico. Muitos e muitos e muitos e muitos exames depois, o médico ainda não encontrava uma explicação. Outros foram consultados e nada era encontrado. João não sabia o que era pior: a dor que passava ou o temor de não saber o que se passava.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3475575011687980863?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3475575011687980863&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3475575011687980863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3475575011687980863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/dores-nas-costas.html' title='Dores nas costas'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3657697989901084387</id><published>2009-04-28T22:24:00.009-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:11:31.187-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Autônoma</title><content type='html'>Sheila, paulistana, estudante de arquitetura. Sai quase todas as noites a vagar pela cidade sem saber ao certo aonde vai dar.... e quanto vai cobrar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3657697989901084387?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3657697989901084387&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3657697989901084387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3657697989901084387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/independente.html' title='Autônoma'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4388584954392857520</id><published>2009-04-27T20:31:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:11:47.544-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Espelho, espelho meu</title><content type='html'>Fernanda comprou um vestido. Juliana queria um ainda mais bonito. Juliana queria comprar uma nova toalha para sua mesa. Fernanda foi antes e comprou para si. Juliana e Fernanda, desde que se conheceram, eram assim: tudo era uma competição! Uma queria ser melhor do que a outra, mais do que outra, maior do que a outra. E as duas tinham tudo do bom e do melhor. Viviam para essa competição e não conseguiam enxergar mais nada a sua frente. Nada era suficiente enquanto não ganhavam uma da outra. Pena que elas não enxergavam que as duas sempre saiam perdendo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4388584954392857520?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4388584954392857520&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4388584954392857520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4388584954392857520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/espelho-espelho-meu.html' title='Espelho, espelho meu'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-143321588939119153</id><published>2009-04-26T17:30:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:12:02.687-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Cotidiano</title><content type='html'>(CLIC)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Osvaldo abre os olhos. Sente ainda as pernas das duas lindas morenas que conhecera na noite anterior, e com as quais tivera maravilhosas horas de prazer momentos antes, entrelaçadas às suas. Uma arma está apontada para a sua cabeça, e acaba de ser engatilhada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momentos de tensão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O gélido cano do trêzoitão encosta em uma das suas têmporas, e um arrepio de pavor lhe percorre a espinha. Está nervoso, será o fim? Um filme de sua vida passa pelos seus olhos. Lembra da infância, da primeira namoradinha da escola, daquela final de Tóquio, da primeira vez que comeu um Cachorro do Rosário, daqueles completos, lembra de tudo, tudinho. Então, recebe ordens:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Acorda!!! Acorda!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E lá vai Osvaldo, resignado, escovar os dentes. É só mais um dia de trabalho que está começando.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Cassiano Ricardo Hess)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-143321588939119153?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=143321588939119153&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/143321588939119153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/143321588939119153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/cotidiano.html' title='Cotidiano'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2553983534814669553</id><published>2009-04-25T17:19:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:13:27.218-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Brevidade</title><content type='html'>Encontro de escritores de minicontos. Uma reunião breve, alegre, cheia de ideias. Estórias curtas, engraçadas ou tristes. Todas destiladas diretamente do cérebro de seus autores. E nenhuma caneta para registrá-las.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2553983534814669553?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2553983534814669553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2553983534814669553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2553983534814669553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/brevidade.html' title='Brevidade'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1749176866894784027</id><published>2009-04-24T16:58:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:13:43.866-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Selva de Pedra</title><content type='html'>Luiz trabalhava como um burro. Comia como um passarinho. Luiz suava como um porco para pagar todas as contas e, todo ano, seu dinheiro termina com o Leão.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1749176866894784027?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1749176866894784027&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1749176866894784027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1749176866894784027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/selva-de-pedra.html' title='Selva de Pedra'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2789506722093899438</id><published>2009-04-23T16:49:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:13:56.617-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Pecado não original</title><content type='html'>Mamãe, porque o papai não mora com a gente?&lt;br /&gt;Sei lá, meu filho, reclama pro bispo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2789506722093899438?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2789506722093899438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2789506722093899438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2789506722093899438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/pecado.html' title='Pecado não original'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8614668733394455907</id><published>2009-04-22T18:15:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:14:48.404-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Sentença</title><content type='html'>Eu vos declaro Marido e Mulher.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8614668733394455907?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8614668733394455907&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8614668733394455907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8614668733394455907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/sentenca.html' title='Sentença'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5366489133228907074</id><published>2009-04-21T18:04:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:21:23.047-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Sedenta</title><content type='html'>E ela lambeu, lambeu, lambeu, lambeu, lambeu, lambeu, lambeu com vontade.&lt;br /&gt;Esgotou rapidamente seu potinho de água, a cadelinha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5366489133228907074?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5366489133228907074&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5366489133228907074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5366489133228907074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/sedenta.html' title='Sedenta'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3705675146611249198</id><published>2009-04-20T09:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:21:38.223-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Brincadeira de Criança</title><content type='html'>Mais uma reunião de família. Os pais sentados conversando e a criançada correndo de um lado para o outro, caos total. Luisinho, o mais sapeca de todos, começa a gritar "esconde-esconde!" e aponta para um dos primos, que se encosta na parede e começa a contar enquanto acontece o que pode ser descrito como o estouro da boiada. Luisinho pega uma das primas pela mão e, juntos, se escondem no armário de um dos quartos. Lá, no escurinho, é que a brincadeira realmente começa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3705675146611249198?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3705675146611249198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3705675146611249198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3705675146611249198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/brincadeira-de-crianca.html' title='Brincadeira de Criança'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7464607883514603966</id><published>2009-04-19T22:52:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:21:52.748-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Sentimentos #08</title><content type='html'>Viajar de avião é como andar de montanha russa: é bom, mas sempre dá aquele friozinho na barriga. E nos dois casos a melhor parte é chegar no destino final.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7464607883514603966?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7464607883514603966&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7464607883514603966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7464607883514603966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/sentimentos-07_18.html' title='Sentimentos #08'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2515496425391482527</id><published>2009-04-18T11:01:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:22:04.419-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Silêncio</title><content type='html'>Mais um dia cansativo. Era seu aniversário. Ninguém havia ligado, nem dito nada. Ela começava a suspeitar de que teria uma festa surpresa. Sua mãe havia pedido sua chave algumas semanas atrás. Antes de chegar em casa, aproveitou o espelho do elevador para dar aquela última ajeitada no cabelo e retocar a maquiagem. Antes de abrir a porta do apartamento, ainda deu uma última suspirada, pensando "nossa, eu tenho amigos muito legais!". Abriu a porta e.... NADA!. Ela ascendeu a luz. Ninguém estava lá. Olhou atrás do sofá. Abriu os armários! Nossa, que ilusão. Não era possível que todos haviam esquecido. Ligou o seu computador. Pelo menos no orkut deveria ter algum recado! Nada! Ela havia desabilitado o aparecimento do seu aniversário!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2515496425391482527?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2515496425391482527&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2515496425391482527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2515496425391482527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/silencio.html' title='Silêncio'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7771404633956540259</id><published>2009-04-17T10:42:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:22:17.683-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Parabens...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pra vc! nesta data querida..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todos cantavam. Mas Lucinda, a aniversariante, estava longe nos seus pensamentos. Para ela, esse era um dos momentos mais tensos de sua vida. Todo ano era a mesma coisa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Com quem será? Com quem será?..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que Lucinda adora essa enrolação. Quanto mais músicas, melhor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"É big, é big.. é hora, é hora..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Até que chega o momento. É inevitável. Finalmente ela tem que soprar a velinha, e fazer o seu pedido. O pedido que determina tudo.... Ela pensa, pensa, pensa! Nada vem a sua cabeça...começa a suar frio... não está mais escutando nada...  começa a ver tudo embaçado, branco.. Até que o filho da vizinha assopra a velinha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7771404633956540259?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7771404633956540259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7771404633956540259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7771404633956540259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/parabens.html' title='Parabens...'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5588235154677768624</id><published>2009-04-16T10:34:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:22:30.663-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Novos tempos</title><content type='html'>Tinha sido uma festa de arromba. Todos os seus amigos foram. Isso era um recorde!! Até o Samir, direto dos EUA. A Cris de Dublin. E a Ju de Lisboa. Joana estava feliz: esta era a sua primeira festa virtual! Sem presentes, mas como todos os seus amigos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5588235154677768624?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5588235154677768624&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5588235154677768624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5588235154677768624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/novos-tempos.html' title='Novos tempos'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5143258339205258756</id><published>2009-04-15T20:34:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:23:06.465-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Aniversário de Ecléia, a Cartomante</title><content type='html'>Oi Suzana, amiga! Obrigada por ter vindo na minha festa! Pode deixar o porta-retrato com a nossa foto em cima da mesa da cozinha com os outros pacotes, aproveita para pegar um pouco de gelo que tu irás bater a canela na mesinha de centro e te prepara que as meninas do clube já estão chegando com o bolo surpresa de chocolate com morango.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5143258339205258756?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5143258339205258756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5143258339205258756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5143258339205258756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/aniversario-de-ecleia-cartomante.html' title='Aniversário de Ecléia, a Cartomante'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5873165952085969210</id><published>2009-04-14T17:15:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:23:21.475-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Precoce Idade</title><content type='html'>As garotas reunidas, todas tentando consolar a aniversariante. Mesmo com a festa do jeito que queria, Priscilla não conseguia evitar as lágrimas. Não entendia porque o Lucas tinha vindo até a sua casa mas insistia em mostrar seu desprezo. Todas as amigas diziam que ele era apenas um garoto mimado, que ele teria que amadurecer muito pra saber apreciar uma mulher como ela. Ouvindo tudo isso, Pri não conseguia parar de comer... Aos dez anos de idade, já enfrentava os problemas de gente grande.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5873165952085969210?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5873165952085969210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5873165952085969210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5873165952085969210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/idade.html' title='Precoce Idade'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8780215186180017525</id><published>2009-04-13T20:57:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:23:34.657-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Presente de Joana</title><content type='html'>Era aniversário de Joana, e seus amigos não sabiam o que fazer. Joana era chata que só vendo: exigente, ranzinza e muito, muito, muito rigorosa. Como agradar uma pessoa assim? Mal eles sabiam que ela valorizava justamente as coisas mais simples e óbvias do mundo: um cartão, flores e bombons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8780215186180017525?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8780215186180017525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8780215186180017525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8780215186180017525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/presente-de-joana.html' title='Presente de Joana'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6321693032565124534</id><published>2009-04-12T22:39:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:23:47.451-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>SPC</title><content type='html'>Até gostaria de comprar todas essas roupas, mas não sei se devo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6321693032565124534?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6321693032565124534&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6321693032565124534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6321693032565124534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/spc.html' title='SPC'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8103224401769225744</id><published>2009-04-11T21:42:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:23:58.678-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Estória de Cinema</title><content type='html'>Maria das Dores sempre sonhou com o dia que um príncipe viria resgatá-la em seu cavalo branco, livrando-a das garras de seus terríveis pais. Foi melhor do que esperava: Genivaldo, além do cavalo branco, tinha sua própria carroça e seu próprio castelo na Vila Quebra-Costela.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8103224401769225744?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8103224401769225744&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8103224401769225744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8103224401769225744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/estoria-de-cinema.html' title='Estória de Cinema'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5882983793822246972</id><published>2009-04-10T19:49:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:29:16.652-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Dissabores</title><content type='html'>Kathiane sempre gostou de Páscoa. Esse ano não foi diferente. Passou três dias comendo todos os chocolates possíveis. Um dia, comeu todos os bombons. No outro, foi só chocolate branco. No final, ficou com os caramelos e os coelhinhos de baunilha. Quando enfrentou a balança na segunda-feira, foi tomada por um sentimento meio amargo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5882983793822246972?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5882983793822246972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5882983793822246972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5882983793822246972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/dissabores.html' title='Dissabores'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5270509698954886676</id><published>2009-04-09T20:02:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:29:39.384-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Difícil decisão</title><content type='html'>Cara ou coroa? Palitinhos? Sorteio? Luciana estava indecisa, afinal como escolher entre passar um dia no Rio de Janeiro ou em Niterói? Pensando rápido, a escolha parece óbvia. Até que ela se dá conta e se decide. É Niterói, que tem o privilégio de admirar as belezas do Rio.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5270509698954886676?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5270509698954886676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5270509698954886676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5270509698954886676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/dificil-decisao.html' title='Difícil decisão'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6188883594831576745</id><published>2009-04-08T22:45:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:30:05.312-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Precedentes</title><content type='html'>Estados Unidos, 1950. Era o dia dos últimos testes, depois de cinco anos de pesquisas intensas. Chegou atrasado porque o despertador estragou durante a noite. O ônibus que pegou se atrasou por conta de um pneu furado. Ao bater o ponto, a máquina mastigou seu cartão. Chegou na cafeteira a tempo de ver seu colega terminar com o café. Sem a bebida, esqueceu de calibrar a pressão do equipamento, o que passou despercebido até que um dos pistões estourou. Bem na hora em que seu chefe mostrava as instalações para seus superiores, cobrindo-os de um óleo espesso. Não conseguia acreditar no que acontecia em seu dia, nem entendeu quando o Departamento de Recursos Humanos o convidou a se retirar. Traumatizado, Murphy nunca mais foi o mesmo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6188883594831576745?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6188883594831576745&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6188883594831576745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6188883594831576745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/precedentes.html' title='Precedentes'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3392163566235795306</id><published>2009-04-07T22:37:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:30:20.316-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Crise</title><content type='html'>Apesar de tudo o que o presidente falava, o País não conseguia superar a "marolinha". Por mais que houvesse incentivos federais, parecia haver alguma coisa segurando a Indústria nacional. E a cada noite, Lula se desligava dos problemas do Governo, deitado na cama ao lado de dona Marisa, como qualquer casal normal, vendo BBB. Esquecia de tudo durante aqueles momentos e sempre perdia um tempo no Palácio do Planalto conversando no dia seguinte com seus assessores sobre os acontecimentos na casa mais vigiada do Brasil. Nem percebeu que a Economia voltou a crescer depois de mais uma final.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3392163566235795306?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3392163566235795306&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3392163566235795306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3392163566235795306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/crise.html' title='Crise'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1213590984035661757</id><published>2009-04-06T14:01:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:30:37.526-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Essa passou raspando!</title><content type='html'>Josinelson já havia tomado todas, mas mesmo assim resolveu arriscar. Havia, sim, uma barreira de brigadianos a alguns metros a sua frente, mas azar, já não pensava direito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josinelson, meio tonto, deu alguns passos para trás, e acelerou em direção aos brigadianos. Quase tropeçando, mirou no meio da bola e deu um bico, que passou raspando a cabeça do Sargento, acertando o travessão do gol adversário.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhhhhhh, gritaram os policiais, que curtiam a confraternização de final de semana com o pessoal do batalhão.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1213590984035661757?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1213590984035661757&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1213590984035661757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1213590984035661757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/essa-passou-raspando.html' title='Essa passou raspando!'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2137366642242265042</id><published>2009-04-05T13:48:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:31:40.105-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Surpresa!</title><content type='html'>Fazia um tempão que Eduardo havia se isolado do seus amigos de colégio. Era seu aniversário, e que bela ocasião para reunir a galera!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fez um belo de um convite no photoshop, catou os emails de todos orkut afora, e mandou aquele spam para todo mundo! Que sucesso!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eduardo chegou no local, na data e hora marcada, e não é que os amigos haviam lhe reservado uma bela surpresa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém apareceu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2137366642242265042?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2137366642242265042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2137366642242265042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2137366642242265042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/surpresa.html' title='Surpresa!'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2285615110316397697</id><published>2009-04-04T14:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:32:08.157-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>O drama da seca nordestina</title><content type='html'>Oh mãinha, purquê qui os menino não me gostam?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2285615110316397697?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2285615110316397697&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2285615110316397697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2285615110316397697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/o-drama-da-seca-nordestina.html' title='O drama da seca nordestina'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8137189738304665842</id><published>2009-04-03T23:26:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:34:59.117-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Recordação</title><content type='html'>Acabou o jogo! Fernando se levanda na arquibancada ainda eufórico. Três a zero e um banho de bola! Que jogaço! Nunca havia visto a seleção brasileira de tão perto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas ele não podia ir embora de mãos vázias. Tinha que levar alguma recordação, uma camiseta, uma boa, qualquer coisa. E foi ai que Fernando viu dois garotos ali perto com uma bola que havia sido chutada para a torcida. Hummm, meu souvenir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fernando foi chegando perto, chegando perto e zupttt!!!!! A chuteira esquerda arremeçada pelo Pato atingiu certeiramente o seu ouvido direito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fernando desmaiou, mas conseguiu sua recordação: um galo, presente do Pato.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8137189738304665842?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8137189738304665842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8137189738304665842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8137189738304665842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/recordacao.html' title='Recordação'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3853956836721856328</id><published>2009-04-02T10:01:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:28:19.067-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Sentimentos #07</title><content type='html'>Trabalho, stress, função, correria. A vida de hoje pode estar mais agitada, mas temos uma vantagem sobre as gerações anteriores: um sorriso, um abraço, um carinho são muito mais valorizados.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3853956836721856328?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3853956836721856328&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3853956836721856328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3853956836721856328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/sentimentos-07.html' title='Sentimentos #07'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5905848253380145968</id><published>2009-04-01T23:41:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:31:26.337-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Consciência</title><content type='html'>Ronaldo fazia de tudo para ajudar o planeta. Era vegetariano, mesmo cercado de churrascarias. Seu meio de transporte era a bicicleta, mesmo morando a 10 quilômetros do trabalho. Participava de todas as campanhas a favor do meio ambiente, reciclando o que podia e poupando energia sempre que dava. Era um agente de transformação, um cara calmo e sensível.  Só se alterava quando resolviam poupar eletricidade durante o seu banho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5905848253380145968?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5905848253380145968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5905848253380145968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5905848253380145968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/04/consciencia.html' title='Consciência'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8911398468613614733</id><published>2009-03-31T13:26:00.008-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:33:32.233-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Salvação</title><content type='html'>- Mah, tcheeeee! - Gritou Eduardo, olhando seu computador reiniciar ao faltar luz pela quinta vez naquela semana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faltando pouco menos de um mês para a data de entrega de seu TCC, Eduardo não tinha tempo a perder. Precisava se concentrar, e a constante perda de trechos do seu trabalho final devido a reinício inesperado do seu desktop tinha que acabar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comprou um notebook, chegou em casa e se pôs a escrever, escrever, escrever, inspiradíssimo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Mah, tcheeeeeeeee! - Gritou Eduardo, olhando seu computador reiniciar ao voltar do banheiro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instalando Atualização Crítica do XP - 1 de 24: 1% Concluído ...&lt;br /&gt;1% Concluído ... &lt;br /&gt;1% Concluído ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8911398468613614733?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8911398468613614733&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8911398468613614733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8911398468613614733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/salvacao.html' title='Salvação'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4831485321194845579</id><published>2009-03-30T01:02:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:33:52.833-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Dúvida</title><content type='html'>Durmir ou ficar acordado? Uma simples escolha pode mudar tudo. É um dilema, de fato. Bem real e normal, nos dias de hoje.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durmo para descansar e poder trabalhar amanhã? Ou fico acordado me atualizando: lendo todos os blogs que posso, os livros de trabalho que empoeiram no meu criado-mudo, os livros de ficção entediados na minha prateleira,  assisto aqueles filmes baixados, e já aproveito e vejo também os seriados, vejo o que está acontecendo com os meus amigos pelo orkut, me atualizo nas últimas  do twitter, faço os uploads das minhas fotos no flickr, pego alguns cartões postais para enviar no postcrossing, vejo TV, leio a revista semanal, o jornal do dia, apago os spams do meu e-mail de trabalho, leio os meus e-mails pessoais, falo com os meus amigos no msn, mando algumas mensagens do celular, procuro infos sobre os cursos que pretendo fazer, vejo coisas sobre decoração, escuto música, baixo música, escrevo um contículo...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4831485321194845579?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4831485321194845579&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4831485321194845579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4831485321194845579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/duvida.html' title='Dúvida'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4709865666280079687</id><published>2009-03-29T21:00:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:54:02.530-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>A Hora do Planeta</title><content type='html'>Desligou todos os eletrônicos de suas tomadas. Samuel sentou na casa completamente escura sentindo-se parte de uma comunidade global, uma força mundial que lutava por um planeta mais justo, mais econômico e mais saudável. Ele estava sozinho e, ao mesmo tempo, sintonizado com mais de seis bilhões de pessoas. Sentou na cama, fechou os olhos, respirou fundo e sentiu uma energia positiva percorrer cada centímetro de seu corpo. Meditou por mais de uma hora e voltou para a sala. Percebeu a economia que ia fazer, já que sua sala não continha mais nenhum móvel. Mais saudável, pois sua cozinha tinha sido saqueada. Não era justo que seu alarme também dependesse de uma tomada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4709865666280079687?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4709865666280079687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4709865666280079687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4709865666280079687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/hora-do-planeta.html' title='A Hora do Planeta'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-8854885720544568114</id><published>2009-03-28T21:30:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:54:44.774-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Bom moço</title><content type='html'>Rodrigo acordou ainda de madrugada. Levantou daquela cama devagar para não acordar a moça depois de uma noite agitada. Catou as suas roupas, se vestiu e saiu, deixando o dinheiro no criado mudo. Acreditava que 70 reais eram suficientes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pela manhã, a moça acordou, viu o dinheiro e agradeceu a Deus, lembrando da noite que passara.&lt;br /&gt;- Ainda bem que o Guigo lembrou de deixar o dinheiro pro leite Nan do Mateusinho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-8854885720544568114?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=8854885720544568114&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8854885720544568114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/8854885720544568114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/bom-moco.html' title='Bom moço'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2275024036141493007</id><published>2009-03-27T19:23:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:00:43.076-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Destino</title><content type='html'>Saiu pensando no que tinha acabado de ouvir da vidente: "Muito dinheiro virá, de um modo rápido e imprevisto. Mas você não irá aproveitá-lo, pois, com ele, muita dor e sofrimento se farão presentes." Com a cabeça nas nuvens, imaginava as possíveis maneiras de receber uma grana: os devedores, a Megasena, talvez uma herança? Nem se deu conta do carro-forte que estava sem freios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2275024036141493007?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2275024036141493007&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2275024036141493007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2275024036141493007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/destino.html' title='Destino'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7988716990402913665</id><published>2009-03-26T23:52:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:01:03.298-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>7 min</title><content type='html'>Já estava há 7 minutos na sala de espera. Levei o meu caderno de anotações, mas nada sai do lápis. Minha mente está tensa. Folheio revistas de fofocas, sem entender nada do que estou vendo. Uma, duas, três, quatro, cinco revistas. Cadê esse médico... Só falta o médico atrasar. Odeio quando o médico atrasa. E eles sempre atrasam. Na vida deles, 7 minutos não são nada. Pra mim, 7 minutos é uma eternidade. É só um exame de rotina, não é nada de mais. O problema não é a consulta, a sala ou esse médico (idiota) que ainda não chegou. O que realmente me incomoda é a espera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7988716990402913665?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7988716990402913665&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7988716990402913665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7988716990402913665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/7-min.html' title='7 min'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3882871479857555884</id><published>2009-03-25T23:06:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:01:23.016-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Num piscar de olhos</title><content type='html'>De volta do trabalho, no caminho para a casa. Dirigia tranquilamente, mas sua mente ainda não tinha parado. Tudo passava por sua cabeça: agenda, compromissos, inquietações, medos, angústias, certezas... tudo estava lá. Junto com os sinais verdes, amarelos e vermelhos e com as faixas de pedestres, outros carros e passantes. De repente BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM. Sua mente inquieta, fez com que dirigisse de forma mais lenta. Foi a sua sorte. O carro de lá, queria aproveitar o finalzinho da sinaleira amarela. O carro de sua frente, com pressa, saiu logo antes mesmo que o verde aparecesse. Uma batida. Uma acordada. Bem na sua frente.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3882871479857555884?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3882871479857555884&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3882871479857555884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3882871479857555884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/num-piscar-de-olhos.html' title='Num piscar de olhos'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7753681991794746843</id><published>2009-03-24T10:55:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:02:26.330-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Lição de vida</title><content type='html'>Dona Genoveva finalmente se apaixonou. Depois de mais de sessenta anos, encontrou um parceiro que a levava para vários lugares, que conversava por horas e horas sobre as coisas mais banais. Seu Moacir lhe apresentava os melhores pontos da cidade, com o tradicional bom humor e o sorriso estampado no rosto. Se encontravam sempre nos mesmos local e horário. Depois de mais de sessenta anos, Dona Genoveva descobriu que o amor não era passageiro, era cobrador.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7753681991794746843?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7753681991794746843&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7753681991794746843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7753681991794746843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/licao-de-vida.html' title='Lição de vida'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4089379357073100473</id><published>2009-03-23T13:40:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:02:49.086-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Criatividade</title><content type='html'>O autor desfrutava de um dos períodos mais criativos de sua vida!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Semana após semana enchia o seu editor de exemplares incrivéis das mais mirabolantes desculpas para justificar o atraso na entrega do novo capítulo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4089379357073100473?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4089379357073100473&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4089379357073100473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4089379357073100473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/criatividade.html' title='Criatividade'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3758085369656692153</id><published>2009-03-22T13:06:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:03:09.235-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Nova estação</title><content type='html'>Maria se viu no meio de uma pilha de folhas caídas pelo chão. Sentiu uma brisa suave acariciando o seu rosto e algumas folhas amareladas se moviam como se tivessem vida própria. Um sentimento de nostalgia, lembranças da infância, tomavam conta da mente de Maria enquanto ela cuidadosamente recolhia tudo para jogar no lixo. Finalmente tinha criado coragem para jogar fora toda aquela papelada guardada desde os tempos de escola.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3758085369656692153?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3758085369656692153&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3758085369656692153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3758085369656692153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/nova-estacao.html' title='Nova estação'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2942493372458002685</id><published>2009-03-21T19:59:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:03:25.369-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>O cavalo manco</title><content type='html'>Deoclécio afiou bem a faca e seguiu, a passos firmes rumo ao galpão. As bombachas traziam respingos de sangue de antigas castrações. Era hábil na arte de castrar potros, e aquele potrinho feio, manco e de pelo sujo seria apenas mais um a ser ´´beneficiado`` pela faca carneadeira. Num relance, um coice, e a faca parou cravada no cós da bombacha que, vermelhando, denunciava a tragédia....E Deoclécio, quem diria, de tanto castrar, um dia saiu castrado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Rodrigo Bueno)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2942493372458002685?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2942493372458002685&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2942493372458002685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2942493372458002685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/o-cavalo-manco.html' title='O cavalo manco'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-14281574681518127</id><published>2009-03-20T19:19:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:03:42.783-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Medo</title><content type='html'>- ...de morrer?- perguntou a psicóloga&lt;br /&gt;- Não. Isso eu sei que vai acontecer. Mais cedo ou mais tarde.&lt;br /&gt;- Então, qual o problema?&lt;br /&gt;- Tenho medo do incerto, do que não posso controlar.... de me jogar em algo, de cabeça, de verdade.&lt;br /&gt;- Mas isso é a vida.&lt;br /&gt;- Então, eu tenho medo de viver....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-14281574681518127?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=14281574681518127&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/14281574681518127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/14281574681518127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/medo.html' title='Medo'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4679414653449614874</id><published>2009-03-19T07:43:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:04:03.034-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Vinganças Que Não Vingaram II</title><content type='html'>No jantar serviu ao marido uma terrina fumegante: o  cheiro do tempero, das especiarias – e do veneno – escancararam-lhe o apetite. A fome capitulando ante a ameaça. E o canalha sobreviveu.  Só depois chegou à conclusão de que de fato pratos quentes não combinam com vingança.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Chico Pascoal)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4679414653449614874?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4679414653449614874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4679414653449614874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4679414653449614874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/vingancas-que-nao-vingaram-ii.html' title='Vinganças Que Não Vingaram II'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-445069766917618300</id><published>2009-03-18T13:15:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:04:20.535-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Vinganças Que Não Vingaram I</title><content type='html'>Arquitetou vingança sórdida contra seu pior desafeto: o prédio haveria de desabar e  soterrá-lo sob toneladas e toneladas de concreto.  A vingança, porém, não se concretizou. O prédio ainda resiste. Seu currículo de Arquiteto continua irrepreensível.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Chico Pascoal)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-445069766917618300?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=445069766917618300&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/445069766917618300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/445069766917618300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/vingancas-que-nao-vingaram-i.html' title='Vinganças Que Não Vingaram I'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-3475969761139093175</id><published>2009-03-17T20:40:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:06:13.921-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Café</title><content type='html'>Final do prazo para entrega do projeto. Não dormia há três dias, não tinha mais noção do tempo, só conseguia pensar naquele maldito projeto que não dava certo. Depois de muitas horas na frente do computador, entrou num transe, completamente psicodélico, e de repente surge a Britney Spears com a solução dos seus problemas. Acordou babando no teclado, um monte de letras aleatórias no meio do projeto, mas agora ele sabia o que fazer. Mais duas horas de trabalho e estaria pronto, bem na hora. Só não percebeu que apagara sem saber o email do professor, adiando a entrega.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-3475969761139093175?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=3475969761139093175&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3475969761139093175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/3475969761139093175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/cafe.html' title='Café'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4829041738457879147</id><published>2009-03-16T16:47:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:06:35.754-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Católico</title><content type='html'>Pagava o dízimo e abusava da enteada religiosamente.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4829041738457879147?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4829041738457879147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4829041738457879147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4829041738457879147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/catolico.html' title='Católico'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5028494872597044314</id><published>2009-03-15T14:45:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:06:58.683-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Mau Humor</title><content type='html'>Lucélia estava naquelas dias. Péssimo humor. Tudo a irritada e a incomodava. Aquela chuva era perfeita. Mais uma desculpa para ficar trancada no quarto, deitada na cama, sem precisar falar com alguém. Ninguém entendia sua necessidade de isolamento. Mas era necessário.  Era primordial. Era uma forma de passar aquela semana de provas. Depois tudo era festa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5028494872597044314?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5028494872597044314&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5028494872597044314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5028494872597044314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/mau-humor.html' title='Mau Humor'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2235798935259455540</id><published>2009-03-14T14:38:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:07:14.220-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Ser ou não ser...</title><content type='html'>...eis a questão. Mas será que essa é mesmo a questão?&lt;br /&gt;Será que hoje é mais importante ser do que não ser?&lt;br /&gt;Ou é melhor ter do que não ter?&lt;br /&gt;A angústia é mesma, só que numa visão mais contemporânea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2235798935259455540?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2235798935259455540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2235798935259455540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2235798935259455540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/ser-ou-nao-ser.html' title='Ser ou não ser...'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-631532786106052702</id><published>2009-03-13T15:06:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:07:39.571-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Falta de preparo</title><content type='html'>Foi um jogo fora do comum. Fez um gol bonito atrás do outro, cada jogada bem trabalhada com os companheiros de time. Sentia os músculos prestes a se entregar devido ao esforço extremo, o corpo todo tenso. Com o apito final do juiz, finalmente conseguiu respirar aliviado. Só teve forças pra deixar um recado no Twitter: "Sou demais. Destruí no Winning Eleven. :)"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-631532786106052702?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=631532786106052702&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/631532786106052702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/631532786106052702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/falta-de-preparo.html' title='Falta de preparo'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5188830600337181935</id><published>2009-03-12T18:41:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:09:21.924-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Pifou</title><content type='html'>- Acabou a bateria. A porta se fechou. O fusível queimou. Saiu e não voltou. Deu tilti. Offline...&lt;br /&gt;- Tá joãozinho, para! Já entendi. Isso quer dizer que você não fez o dever de casa?&lt;br /&gt;- ñ, sora. O trab ñ era sobre a nova língua port? Então, to te atualizando... é assim que a galera fala...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5188830600337181935?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5188830600337181935&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5188830600337181935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5188830600337181935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/pifou.html' title='Pifou'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-551188263771940649</id><published>2009-03-11T08:54:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:09:42.943-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Maiô é motivo de lágrimas.</title><content type='html'>Sábado ensolarado. Acordamos quase meio dia e decidimos pular café da manhã e almoço para ir à praia aproveitar o calor. Em 50 segundos eu estava pronto para sair. Nesse mesmo tempo, Sydney já tinha experimentado 4 biquinis e se achado gorda em todos. "Coloca um maiô", sugeri para apressá-la. Naquele dia, o único mar que vi foi de lágrimas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Diego Schutt)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-551188263771940649?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=551188263771940649&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/551188263771940649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/551188263771940649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/maio-e-motivo-de-lagrimas.html' title='Maiô é motivo de lágrimas.'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7113568482555673087</id><published>2009-03-10T15:49:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:10:05.259-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guto L. F.'/><title type='text'>Distância</title><content type='html'>Fernanda e Felipe sairam de férias e foram para o litoral. Desde que começaram a namorar, há pouco mais de 6 meses, era a primeira vez que passariam tanto tempo juntos, que conviveriam por 15 dias seguidos lado a lado, 24 horas um com outro, com suas manias e desejos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ao décimo-sexto dia vocês já imaginam o resultado: Fernanda e Felipe nunca mais se desgrudaram.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7113568482555673087?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7113568482555673087&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7113568482555673087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7113568482555673087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/distancia.html' title='Distância'/><author><name>Guto L.F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16910443705818988220</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ldTTphEjQWs/SE_ZH8NxaTI/AAAAAAAAABU/bJc2bHBPtrU/S220/IMG_4188.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2452806378985493979</id><published>2009-03-09T20:53:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:11:08.319-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Tempos de Crise</title><content type='html'>Trabalhavam naquela grande empresa internacional. Ela, no jornal. Ele, no setor de informática. Quando a onda de demissões os atingiu, continuaram trabalhando juntos, em um outro local. Apenas diversificaram um pouco a atividade anterior. Durante o dia, ela fica na esquina vendendo jornal. À noite, ele faz programas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2452806378985493979?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2452806378985493979&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2452806378985493979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2452806378985493979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/tempos-de-crise.html' title='Tempos de Crise'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-391466780321368488</id><published>2009-03-08T20:40:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:11:40.742-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Virado pra Lua</title><content type='html'>Amarildo era um cara de sorte. Ganhou numa rifa de Natal uma viagem com tudo pago para duas pessoas para Florianópolis. Não tinha quem levar até o dia anterior à viagem, quando conheceu uma modelo que estava de mudança para o seu edifício. O tempo estava feio mas foi só pisar na areia que o sol apareceu. Passou os dias bronzeando, mas nada de ficar de vermelho, ao contrário de sua companhia. E no quarto dia ela já começou a descascar. Brincando, Amarildo foi tirando uns pedacinhos da pele que se soltavam. Raspando e, numa raspadinha, ganhou um carro.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-391466780321368488?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=391466780321368488&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/391466780321368488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/391466780321368488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/virado-pra-lua.html' title='Virado pra Lua'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6207005357560334036</id><published>2009-03-07T20:36:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T16:12:15.891-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Movimento</title><content type='html'>As folhas sobem e descem, levantam e caem. Não muito longe dali, janelas abrem e fecham, criando um barulho incômodo para os que passam. Uma sacola plástica passea por entre as ruas, parecendo encontrar o seu próprio caminho. Cenas do cotidiano. Encontros e desencontros com o vento.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6207005357560334036?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6207005357560334036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6207005357560334036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6207005357560334036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/movimento.html' title='Movimento'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5791350540561899151</id><published>2009-03-06T20:14:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:01:48.537-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Por um mundo melhor</title><content type='html'>Ney estudou a vida inteira porque queria melhorar o mundo à sua volta. Deixou de sair com as meninas, de fazer festa com os amigos. Tudo valeu a pena quando completou o seu projeto: uma máquina do tempo. Como teste, resolveu presenciar o momento no qual seus pais se encontraram pela primeira vez. O surgimento de uma pessoa do nada no meio da rua causou um rebuliço, chamando a atenção de muita gente. E seus pais não se viram. E como não se conheceram, Ney simplesmente desapareceu na frente da multidão. No final das contas, o mundo virou um lugar melhor. Sem ele.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5791350540561899151?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5791350540561899151&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5791350540561899151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5791350540561899151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/ciencia-por-um-mundo-melhor.html' title='Por um mundo melhor'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6208427958954515923</id><published>2009-03-05T22:23:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:09:13.979-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Um Menino Maluquinho</title><content type='html'>Ele tinha o olho maior que a barriga, tinha fogo no rabo, tinha vento nos pés, umas pernas enormes (que davam para abraçar o mundo), e macaquinhos no sótão. E aí, o tempo passou. E, como todo mundo, o menino maluquinho cresceu. Cresceu e entrou pro circo, onde encontrou outras aberrações como ele.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6208427958954515923?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6208427958954515923&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6208427958954515923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6208427958954515923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/um-menino-maluquinho.html' title='Um Menino Maluquinho'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-6910115988530943160</id><published>2009-03-04T19:13:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:22:52.111-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Tensão</title><content type='html'>Correria. Corre. Corre. Corre. Corre. Correria.&lt;br /&gt;Acaba dia. Inicia outro dia. Acaba mais um. Inicia outro.&lt;br /&gt;Come. Bebe. Fuma. Dorme. Acorda. Come. Bebe. Fuma. Dorme.&lt;br /&gt;O tempo vai passando. Os dias vão passando. A vida vai passando.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo ao mesmo tempo. Nada acontecendo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-6910115988530943160?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=6910115988530943160&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6910115988530943160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/6910115988530943160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/tensao.html' title='Tensão'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-1896814719808262635</id><published>2009-03-03T13:28:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:23:15.554-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Realidade</title><content type='html'>Feriado. Festas. Bebedeiras.&lt;br /&gt;Final de Carnaval. Depois de tudo isso, Luis estava conformado com a volta a rotina. Agora eram mais festas e bebedeiras, como o segurança da mais badalada danceteria de Porto Alegre.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-1896814719808262635?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=1896814719808262635&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1896814719808262635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/1896814719808262635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/realidade.html' title='Realidade'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-439158809428731844</id><published>2009-03-02T17:30:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:23:46.621-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Quarta Noite de Carnaval</title><content type='html'>Era a última chance. Reginaldo cansou das fantasias, ia com uma camiseta, uma bermuda e havaianas. Botou o dinheiro num bolso, a chave de casa no outro. Chegando perto da festa, foi cercado por um grupo de pivetes. Em troca do dinheiro, ganhou um olho roxo, um dente a menos e uma camiseta rasgada. Mancando, foi até a festa pra pedir a ajuda dos amigos. "Precisa de cuidados?", disse uma voz suave ao seu lado. Esqueceu de tudo, acompanhado da sexy enfermeira.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-439158809428731844?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=439158809428731844&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/439158809428731844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/439158809428731844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/quarta-noite-de-carnaval.html' title='Quarta Noite de Carnaval'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2650089135063943587</id><published>2009-03-01T17:22:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:26:52.427-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Terceira Noite de Carnaval</title><content type='html'>Reginaldo é um brasileiro: não desiste nunca. Cortou o cabelo bem baixinho, colocou uns dentes falsos e um uniforme da Seleção Brasileira. Com aquela pequena protuberância abdominal, era uma cópia perfeita do antigo camisa 9. E lá no meio da festa encontrou uma Maria Chuteira. Mas foi só ficarem mais íntimos que ele percebeu. Assim como o original.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2650089135063943587?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2650089135063943587&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2650089135063943587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2650089135063943587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/terceira-noite-de-carnaval.html' title='Terceira Noite de Carnaval'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4501130696240137192</id><published>2009-02-28T17:11:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:27:05.961-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Segunda Noite de Carnaval</title><content type='html'>Reginaldo acordou no meio da tarde, abraçado em uma garrafa de 51 e com uma baita dor de cabeça. O mundo girava enquanto tomava um banho gelado e comia alguma coisa pra enganar o estômago. Se recuperou a tempo de sair para a segunda festa, desta vez vestido de Diabo: chifres, cavanhaque, uma roupa vermelha, rabo e um tridente. Tantas diabinhas soltas por aí, e nada. A noite foi um inferno.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4501130696240137192?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4501130696240137192&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4501130696240137192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4501130696240137192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/02/segunda-noite-de-carnaval.html' title='Segunda Noite de Carnaval'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2969777051076145256</id><published>2009-02-27T16:45:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:27:24.412-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Primeira Noite de Carnaval</title><content type='html'>Reginaldo tinha se preparado pro Carnaval. Malhou o ano inteiro, pegou um bronzeado bacana durante o verão e tinha um dinheirinho guardado pra se divertir. Fantasia para a primeira festa: Príncipe das Arábias. Correu a noite inteira atrás de uma odalisca, mas não choveu no seu deserto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2969777051076145256?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2969777051076145256&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2969777051076145256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2969777051076145256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/02/primeira-noite-de-carnaval.html' title='Primeira Noite de Carnaval'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-5604396153653172070</id><published>2009-02-26T08:35:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:27:44.719-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Pra baixo</title><content type='html'>Nessa época ele bebia muito e cantava marchinhas pela rua.&lt;br /&gt;Dava em cima das meninas, usando a embriaguez como desculpa.&lt;br /&gt;Mas na hora H, com a esposa nos braços a música tema era: “a pipa do vovô não sobe mais...”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Renata Moreira)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-5604396153653172070?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=5604396153653172070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5604396153653172070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/5604396153653172070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/02/pra-baixo.html' title='Pra baixo'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-7396446189503239981</id><published>2009-02-25T08:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:28:01.938-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rodrigolink'/><title type='text'>Com jeitinho, dá</title><content type='html'>Ele queria fazer escondido de todo mundo. Ela achava que não precisava, já que todo mundo fazia mesmo. Esperaram quando os amigos foram no mercado e se trancaram no quarto. Ela, mais experiente, deu todas as dicas e eles começaram. Bem devagarinho, aos poucos, ele foi pegando o jeito. Sentiu a adrenalina percorrendo seu corpo e foi mais rápido. Meio desajeitado, mas o ritmo dos dois foi se ajustando. A empolgação foi tamanha que ele mal se controlava e acelerou mais. E foi, e foi, e não aguentou mais. Não conseguia entender como alguém passava do nível três do créu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-7396446189503239981?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=7396446189503239981&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7396446189503239981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/7396446189503239981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/02/com-jeitinho-da.html' title='Com jeitinho, dá'/><author><name>rodrigolink</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14238992641300247732</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_h9mgCm0W-J4/SskbZ8cW-QI/AAAAAAAABrA/fIdwc2IV03k/S220/mini-IMG_2155.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-2218938519871875758</id><published>2009-02-24T18:47:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:28:16.185-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carla Link Federizzi'/><title type='text'>Sentimentos #06</title><content type='html'>Carnaval é que nem Natal, ninguém entende muito bem o seu significado real. Na verdade o que importa é o feriadão, comer alguma coisa e de se dar bem na folia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-2218938519871875758?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=2218938519871875758&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2218938519871875758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/2218938519871875758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/03/sentimentos-06.html' title='Sentimentos #06'/><author><name>Carla Link Federizzi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00668039900791735020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zDJM5iefJGg/TBawY1vJ6SI/AAAAAAAAA5g/slQI9S97IMk/S220/044.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117624504404613322.post-4967485666654918952</id><published>2009-02-23T08:26:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T17:28:35.366-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Autor Convidado'/><title type='text'>Infância transviada</title><content type='html'>Na infância era sempre alertada.&lt;br /&gt;- Não seja “maria vai com as outras”.&lt;br /&gt;Certa vez desobedeceu, e nunca mais voltou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(por Renata Moreira)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2117624504404613322-4967485666654918952?l=conticulos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2117624504404613322&amp;postID=4967485666654918952&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4967485666654918952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2117624504404613322/posts/default/4967485666654918952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conticulos.blogspot.com/2009/02/infancia-transviada.html' title='Infância transviada'/><author><name>Autor Convidado</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18221099664515637039</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
