<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10portuguesefull.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cBSXg8fSp7ImA9WhRaEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572</id><updated>2012-02-11T20:57:38.675-02:00</updated><title>Rodrigo Santos</title><subtitle type="html">http://about.me/rodrigosantos</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>144</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/rodrigosantos" /><feedburner:info uri="rodrigosantos" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:feedFlare href="http://add.my.yahoo.com/rss?url=http%3A%2F%2Ffeeds.feedburner.com%2Frodrigosantos" src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/us/my/addtomyyahoo4.gif">Subscribe with My Yahoo!</feedburner:feedFlare><feedburner:feedFlare href="http://fusion.google.com/add?feedurl=http%3A%2F%2Ffeeds.feedburner.com%2Frodrigosantos" src="http://buttons.googlesyndication.com/fusion/add.gif">Subscribe with Google</feedburner:feedFlare><feedburner:feedFlare href="http://www.live.com/?add=http%3A%2F%2Ffeeds.feedburner.com%2Frodrigosantos" src="http://tkfiles.storage.msn.com/x1piYkpqHC_35nIp1gLE68-wvzLZO8iXl_JMledmJQXP-XTBOLfmQv4zhj4MhcWEJh_GtoBIiAl1Mjh-ndp9k47If7hTaFno0mxW9_i3p_5qQw">Subscribe with Live.com</feedburner:feedFlare><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cBSXgzfSp7ImA9WhRaEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-7293890034230704700</id><published>2012-02-11T20:57:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T20:57:38.685-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-11T20:57:38.685-02:00</app:edited><title>Bocejo eterno</title><summary type="html">O bocejo é uma ação involuntária, na qual abrimos a boca e respiramos fundo. Pesquisas recentes afirmam que este mecanismo ocorre em fetos de 11 semanas de vida. Até certos animais, como cachorros, gatos e peixes, por exemplo, também bocejam.
Quando uma pessoa boceja, abre bem a sua boca, permitindo a inalação de uma grande quantidade de ar. Ao realizar a inspiração, o pulmão se expande, os &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/OC6RlSBCGnk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/7293890034230704700/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2012/02/bocejo-eterno.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/7293890034230704700?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/7293890034230704700?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/OC6RlSBCGnk/bocejo-eterno.html" title="Bocejo eterno" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oAQu6FeqvLI/TzbwNjL4a-I/AAAAAAAAA1w/pZ9suDzBFlw/s72-c/yawnopar%5B1%5D.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2012/02/bocejo-eterno.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YASHkzfCp7ImA9WhRWE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-1217035985925163930</id><published>2011-12-31T11:45:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T11:45:49.784-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-31T11:45:49.784-02:00</app:edited><title>2011 aqui jaz</title><summary type="html">É, mais um ano passou e muita coisa aconteceu... termino esse ano com um saldo positivo. Apesar de um valor um tanto baixo, tiveram coisas boas pelo caminho que valem ser lembradas. Há algumas semanas realizei o sonho de toda uma vida, um dos meus sonhos de criança: conhecer a eterna Rainha dos Baixinhos, Xuxa.Na primeira oportunidade que surgiu de conhecer essa que fez parte da minha vida desde &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/1etnf9HWLwo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/1217035985925163930/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/12/2011-aqui-jaz.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1217035985925163930?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1217035985925163930?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/1etnf9HWLwo/2011-aqui-jaz.html" title="2011 aqui jaz" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mrd-d2Tw-Tc/Tv8OggNan-I/AAAAAAAAA1M/O6tZ8PfSwXU/s72-c/DSCF0492a.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/12/2011-aqui-jaz.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cCR3szcCp7ImA9WhRTF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-1594948891996691564</id><published>2011-11-08T12:04:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T12:04:26.588-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-08T12:04:26.588-02:00</app:edited><title>O preço do táxi</title><summary type="html">Um indivíduo saiu para jogar bingo com 100 reais. Ao longo da noite, ele perdeu quase tudo: sobraram só 10 reais. Já eram 5 horas da manhã e ele tinha que voltar para casa de táxi.
Ele saiu do bingo e foi até um ponto de táxi, e perguntou pro motorista:
- Oh, mano, eu tenho só 10 paus e tenho que ir até Sapopemba. São 5 da manhã e tá um frio danado... Quebra o meu galho, vai!
O motorista não deu &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/JGe06djRAC8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/1594948891996691564/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/11/o-preco-do-taxi.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1594948891996691564?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1594948891996691564?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/JGe06djRAC8/o-preco-do-taxi.html" title="O preço do táxi" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/11/o-preco-do-taxi.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8NSXY5fSp7ImA9WhRTEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-3143314379894258293</id><published>2011-11-01T12:48:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T12:48:18.825-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-01T12:48:18.825-02:00</app:edited><title>Meio Gay</title><summary type="html">
Todos os meus amigos sempre me acharam meio gay, inclusive eu.E hoje, pela primeira vez, um amigo me perguntou:
- Qual parte você é gay? A de cima ou a de baixo?- A de cima!- E a de baixo?- Homofóbico!
Respondi de bate pronto e percebi que nunca tinha pensado nisso. E achei genial. Ser gay na parte de cima é:
- Chorar em final de comédia-romântica;- Adorar os amigos gays;- Achar filme europeu &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/yPaOezagw_Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/3143314379894258293/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/11/meio-gay.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/3143314379894258293?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/3143314379894258293?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/yPaOezagw_Q/meio-gay.html" title="Meio Gay" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/11/meio-gay.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QHQXw6fip7ImA9WhdaGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-3213037756995447565</id><published>2011-10-29T19:55:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T19:55:30.216-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-29T19:55:30.216-02:00</app:edited><title>Ah, esse Manuel Joaquim...</title><summary type="html">Lisboa, Portugal
Querido filho Manuel Joaquim:
Escrevo-te esta linha para que saibas que a mãe está viva.Vou escrever bem devagar, pois sei que não consegues ler depressa.Caso estejas sem tempo de escrever à mãe, manda uma carta dizendo que quando estiveres mais tranqüilo vais mandar notícias.
Se tu viesses hoje aqui em casa não irias reconhecer mais nada, porque mudamos.Temos agora uma máquina &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/QE7cUheODqo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/3213037756995447565/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/ah-esse-manuel-joaquim.html#comment-form" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/3213037756995447565?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/3213037756995447565?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/QE7cUheODqo/ah-esse-manuel-joaquim.html" title="Ah, esse Manuel Joaquim..." /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/ah-esse-manuel-joaquim.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEENRnw9fCp7ImA9WhdaGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-1949759358659500196</id><published>2011-10-28T16:28:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-10-28T16:31:37.264-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-28T16:31:37.264-02:00</app:edited><title>Bolo de banana</title><summary type="html">Ingredientes
- 2 bananas-prata- 1/2 xícara (chá) de manteiga (em temperatura ambiente)- 1 xícara (chá) de açúcar- 2 ovos- 1 1/2 xícara (chá) de farinha de trigo- 1 colher (chá) de fermento em pó- 1 colher (chá) de essência de baunilhamanteiga e farinha de trigo para untar e polvilhar


Modo de Preparo
1. Preaqueça o forno a 180ºC (temperatura média).
2. Unte uma fôrma de bolo inglês com manteiga &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/lII4IuzBGDM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/1949759358659500196/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/bolo-de-banana.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1949759358659500196?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1949759358659500196?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/lII4IuzBGDM/bolo-de-banana.html" title="Bolo de banana" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/bolo-de-banana.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08GQH47cSp7ImA9WhdaFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-5272760023353772118</id><published>2011-10-25T08:50:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T08:50:21.009-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-25T08:50:21.009-02:00</app:edited><title>Desabafo sincero</title><summary type="html">Todo mundo deve ter visto que teve Teleton no final de semana que passou e eu, como todo ano, faço minha doação. Esse ano não conseguia por nada e reclamei no twitter...
@RodriigoSantos Ainda não consegui doar... a gravação da @Vivoemrede diz que o número não existe. Como lidar?
Recebo uma DM da atendente da Vivo.
@VivoEmRede Detalhe o problema para que possamos ajudá-lo. Laís
@RodriigoSantos Não&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/VeWVlTgNYlo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/5272760023353772118/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/desabafo-sincero.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/5272760023353772118?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/5272760023353772118?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/VeWVlTgNYlo/desabafo-sincero.html" title="Desabafo sincero" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/desabafo-sincero.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAEQ3gzeSp7ImA9WhdbFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-3833362642442101866</id><published>2011-10-12T20:05:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T20:05:02.681-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-12T20:05:02.681-03:00</app:edited><title>Livre pra viver</title><summary type="html">Então deixa ser do jeito que eu seiQue é bom pra mimNão ligo se acha bom ou ruim
Sigo minhas regras, goste ou nãoSó importa se vier do coraçãoE olha lá, tem gente que acha que "tá" acima da razão
Igual quando eu ligo o rádio e a televisãoQue não vejo nada interessanteSó a mesma babozeira chata de antes
Deixa eu falarEu sei o que é bom pra mimE nada vai mudar o que eu souÉ como penso
Se reparar &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/CWd3Ec01Mhs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/3833362642442101866/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/livre-pra-viver.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/3833362642442101866?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/3833362642442101866?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/CWd3Ec01Mhs/livre-pra-viver.html" title="Livre pra viver" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/10/livre-pra-viver.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EHQ3s4eyp7ImA9WhdXEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-6932183752815781990</id><published>2011-08-24T21:20:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T21:20:32.533-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-24T21:20:32.533-03:00</app:edited><title>Versos mudos</title><summary type="html">
Marjorie EstianoComposição: Alexandre Castilho, Marcus Menna, Victor Pozas  

Sei que já tentei de tudoSei que já não quero mais lembrarSó não sei como dizer pra mimToda vez eu me perguntoQuem será que pode completarEsses versos mudos que eu escrevi?
Pra tentar me convencerQue eu consigo sem vocêRespirar enfim, um momento só pra mimE deixar a vida acontecer
Aos poucos vou reconstruindoAos poucos&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/_zUKJmD6Nlw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/6932183752815781990/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/08/versos-mudos.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/6932183752815781990?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/6932183752815781990?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/_zUKJmD6Nlw/versos-mudos.html" title="Versos mudos" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/08/versos-mudos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMESXk5eip7ImA9WhdQGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-673167724193511537</id><published>2011-08-19T22:40:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T22:40:08.722-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-19T22:40:08.722-03:00</app:edited><title>O que é UMBIGOBUNKER!? pra você?</title><summary type="html">Uma pergunta, uma promoção e a decepção... 
"Exilado num bunker, prisioneiro de meu próprio umbigo.
Protegido até que me descubram. Umbigobunker, a forma que 
encontrei de me defender da realidade."
Minha frase não foi escolhida e eu não ganhei meu iPod. Fim
&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/l8OcXSYQgBY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/673167724193511537/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/08/o-que-e-umbigobunker-pra-voce.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/673167724193511537?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/673167724193511537?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/l8OcXSYQgBY/o-que-e-umbigobunker-pra-voce.html" title="O que é UMBIGOBUNKER!? pra você?" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/08/o-que-e-umbigobunker-pra-voce.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUBR387fyp7ImA9WhZbGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-2391531202408935922</id><published>2011-06-24T12:10:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T12:10:56.107-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-24T12:10:56.107-03:00</app:edited><title>Aconteceu comigo...</title><summary type="html">Marquei em negrito as coisas que aconteceram comigo... 
•  A vela do bolo de aniversário nunca apagava no primeiro sopro. 
•  Dois namoradinhos, só faltava dar beijinho. 
•  Já tentei imitar a risada do Pica Pau. 
•  Já gritei pra loira do banheiro vir me pegar no banheiro da escola e sai correndo. 
•  Quando meus dentes estavam moles, eu ficava cutucando eles com a língua. 
•  Raspava isopor na &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/JPe4vGwewLI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/2391531202408935922/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/06/aconteceu-comigo.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/2391531202408935922?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/2391531202408935922?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/JPe4vGwewLI/aconteceu-comigo.html" title="Aconteceu comigo..." /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/06/aconteceu-comigo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EFSHs4fyp7ImA9WhZbE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-2125158158844153842</id><published>2011-06-17T22:13:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T22:13:39.537-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-17T22:13:39.537-03:00</app:edited><title>Será que ele é?</title><summary type="html">Acredito que todo pai vive com o fantasma do filho ser gay. O meu, no dia em que nasci, em meio à ditadura, gritou bêbado: “Prefiro ter um filho ‘viado’ do que militar!”. Talvez, por isso, achou que eu era gay quando fui dividir apartamento com um amigo e vim morar em São Paulo.
Quem já dividiu um apartamento com um homem sabe: todo mundo pensa que você e seu amigo são gays. Em Salvador, minha &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/mekM2Z-vyco" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/2125158158844153842/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/06/sera-que-ele-e.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/2125158158844153842?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/2125158158844153842?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/mekM2Z-vyco/sera-que-ele-e.html" title="Será que ele é?" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/06/sera-que-ele-e.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMGQno5eSp7ImA9WhZVGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-1335203839756788873</id><published>2011-05-30T21:40:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T21:40:23.421-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-30T21:40:23.421-03:00</app:edited><title>Rapidinhas</title><summary type="html">
Solitude 
Um apartamento vazio sem móveis. Chamar um táxi com passageiro. Perder um ônibus. Uma mão no ar. Um mendigo. O eco. Um deserto. A morte. Uma dor. Telefone mudo. Um serial killer. Um voyeur. Uma puta. TV ligada. Um paciente sem acompanhante. Réveillon sem abraço. Geladeira vazia. Órfão. Insônia. Masturbação. Monólogo. Cama de solteiro. Uma sepultura. Vomitar. Uma cama arrumada. Suécia. &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/8H6XIqgR9VY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/1335203839756788873/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/05/rapidinhas.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1335203839756788873?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1335203839756788873?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/8H6XIqgR9VY/rapidinhas.html" title="Rapidinhas" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/05/rapidinhas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EFRnk4eip7ImA9WhZXEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-223438673172592814</id><published>2011-04-29T22:06:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T22:06:57.732-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-29T22:06:57.732-03:00</app:edited><title>Monólogo de um assassino</title><summary type="html">Vontade de matar? Sempre tive. Quando criança, queria matar professores. Às vezes meus irmãos e em outras, até meus pais. Ninguém nunca me entendeu.Até tentavam. Tentavam me modificar. Fazer que eu fosse como os outros garotos. Nunca fui como os outros garotos. Nunca quis ser como os outros garotos.
Odiava falar de futebol, carros... e até sobre as garotas. Não. Não sou gay.Só não gosto de abrir &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/JcUizzbXOFo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/223438673172592814/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/04/monologo-de-um-assassino.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/223438673172592814?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/223438673172592814?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/JcUizzbXOFo/monologo-de-um-assassino.html" title="Monólogo de um assassino" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/04/monologo-de-um-assassino.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMHQnwzfSp7ImA9WhZXEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-4511515902818989284</id><published>2011-04-15T21:02:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-04-30T19:43:53.285-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-30T19:43:53.285-03:00</app:edited><title>Dramas, tramas e um pouco de sacanagem...</title><summary type="html">Era uma vez um distante reino, ele se chamava Leal Aurelino. Todos os habitantes do lugar viviam felizes. Bom, todos não. Existia um grupo que era contra o Rei, afinal eles conheciam todas as suas armações e tiranias. Esse grupo era chamado de RECLAMADORES RECLAMANTES que RECLAMAM do REI, ou R4 como era mais conhecido. Para a maioria da pessoas, o rei era um homem bondoso, que se importava com &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/VTQ_Cs2YJyM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/4511515902818989284/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/04/dramas-tramas-e-um-pouco-de-sacanagem.html#comment-form" title="2 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/4511515902818989284?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/4511515902818989284?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/VTQ_Cs2YJyM/dramas-tramas-e-um-pouco-de-sacanagem.html" title="Dramas, tramas e um pouco de sacanagem..." /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/04/dramas-tramas-e-um-pouco-de-sacanagem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMCRH0ycSp7ImA9Wx9aGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-7524054319411889493</id><published>2011-03-12T22:07:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T22:07:45.399-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-12T22:07:45.399-03:00</app:edited><title>Mergulho no passado...</title><summary type="html">Queria escrever aqui, mas não sabia por onde começar. Aconteceram muitas coisas e finalmente consegui um emprego novo que tem tudo pra dar certo.Revirando umas coisas, encontrei um caderno antigo e um texto de quando eu tinha uns 14/15 anos, não tenho certeza, mas acho que já postei ele aqui. De qualquer forma, postarei de novo ou não, dessa vez melhor escrito ou não.
O sonho (por Rodrigo Santos)&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/9FpMfblK9Fk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/7524054319411889493/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/03/mergulho-no-passado.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/7524054319411889493?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/7524054319411889493?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/9FpMfblK9Fk/mergulho-no-passado.html" title="Mergulho no passado..." /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/03/mergulho-no-passado.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEASH85fip7ImA9Wx9bFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-7211772732190304833</id><published>2011-02-22T21:57:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T21:57:29.126-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-22T21:57:29.126-03:00</app:edited><title>Carlos, três dias morto...</title><summary type="html">Estava na minha cabine individual, concentrado em planilhas do excel, no que dar de comida para o cachorro, na hemorróida da minha avó e no que almoçar, quando ao olhar para o lado percebo que Carlos estava passando mal. Tossiu duas vezes e apagou. Observei atentamente e fiquei chocado como ninguém fez nada.
Carlos então, começou a estribuchar, bateu a cabeça no monitor enquanto tentava levantar &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/w3p8yaL7j_4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/7211772732190304833/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/02/carlos-tres-dias-morto.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/7211772732190304833?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/7211772732190304833?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/w3p8yaL7j_4/carlos-tres-dias-morto.html" title="Carlos, três dias morto..." /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/02/carlos-tres-dias-morto.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAARHo9fSp7ImA9Wx9UGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-1243289651667512395</id><published>2011-02-16T21:59:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T21:59:05.465-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-16T21:59:05.465-02:00</app:edited><title>O conto do Vigário</title><summary type="html">Sete horas. Maria Perpétua do Socorro, moradora de uma favela do Rio de Janeiro, sai para seu trabalho. Maria é doméstica e, apesar de ser casada, sustenta a casa sozinha. Seu marido, Vigário é um malandro com M maiúsculo. Sempre inventando desculpas para não trabalhar e encontrando defeitos nos poucos  trabalhos que conseguiu.
Com fama de pegador no bairro, mesmo depois de casado, Vigário dava &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/WVk3Fg817gs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/1243289651667512395/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/02/o-conto-do-vigario.html#comment-form" title="3 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1243289651667512395?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/1243289651667512395?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/WVk3Fg817gs/o-conto-do-vigario.html" title="O conto do Vigário" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/02/o-conto-do-vigario.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIHQn48eCp7ImA9Wx9WGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-8546917057410518070</id><published>2011-01-24T06:25:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T06:25:33.070-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-24T06:25:33.070-02:00</app:edited><title>Liberdade (?) roubada</title><summary type="html">Confusão, pensamentos distorcidos, sonhos, pesadelos, morte, fantasmas...
Tudo isso aparece bem na hora de dormir. Estranho? Talvez.
Se eu não conhecesse as reações do meu corpo.


Passo muitas horas do dia em quem eu consigo limpar completamente a mente, faço com que pareça uma grande sala escura. Sem sons, sem pessoas, sem um ruído sequer.

Tenho um auto controle bastante aguçado, depois de &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/yAhu75ip38g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/8546917057410518070/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/01/liberdade-roubada.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/8546917057410518070?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/8546917057410518070?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/yAhu75ip38g/liberdade-roubada.html" title="Liberdade (?) roubada" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/01/liberdade-roubada.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YCQHg_cSp7ImA9Wx9XFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-5498976534461844830</id><published>2011-01-08T13:39:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T13:39:21.649-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-08T13:39:21.649-02:00</app:edited><title>A vida é clichê</title><summary type="html">A vida é clichê:
Carpe Diem.
Ter uma “casa no campo”.
Ter um amigo guardado no lado esquerdo do peito.
Sonhar em viver de amor.
Ter um ombro para chorar.
Assistir Comédia Romântica.
Chorar e dizer que ama todo mundo quando se está bêbado.
Comer chocolate na depressão.
Viver as coisas simples.
Cantar Wando.
Comer acarajé com Coca-Cola.
Pedir a mão em casamento na Torre Eiffel.
Cheiro de chuva.
&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/xvZ6W_jVT4s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/5498976534461844830/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/01/vida-e-cliche.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/5498976534461844830?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/5498976534461844830?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/xvZ6W_jVT4s/vida-e-cliche.html" title="A vida é clichê" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2011/01/vida-e-cliche.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIFR3Y6fip7ImA9Wx9REUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-15427183066432267</id><published>2010-12-11T21:35:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T21:35:16.816-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-11T21:35:16.816-02:00</app:edited><title>O Complexo do Alemão</title><summary type="html">Tensão, pânico, pavor... sentimentos comuns para quem conhecia o Alemão.Ninguém sabia mais o que fazer, alguns escolheram deixar o lugar, ir embora.As pessoas não aguentavam mais tanta tortura. Era um martírio, uma luta.
Pessoas tentaram, inutilmente ajudar o Alemão, melhorar o astral que
sempre estava baixo, sempre com uma tensão no ar. Clima estranho.
Naquele dia fatídico, o chororô tomou conta&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/12qEvU1VzC4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/15427183066432267/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/12/o-complexo-do-alemao.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/15427183066432267?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/15427183066432267?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/12qEvU1VzC4/o-complexo-do-alemao.html" title="O Complexo do Alemão" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/12/o-complexo-do-alemao.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08GSXgzfip7ImA9Wx9REU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-4928079327782841827</id><published>2010-12-11T21:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T21:23:48.686-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-11T21:23:48.686-02:00</app:edited><title>Dexter</title><summary type="html">Ia escrever um conto nesse post, mas minha atual leitura e minha mais nova série preferida me fez prestar mais atenção em mim. Na última segunda feira (06/02/2010) estreou na Rede TV a série DEXTER e eu, que há muito tempo, queria ver a série fiquei acordado até que começasse. No dia seguinte começaram as pesquisas sobre a série. Descobri que ela foi baseada em um livro que prontamente fiz &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/y1gp99wolcU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/4928079327782841827/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/12/dexter.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/4928079327782841827?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/4928079327782841827?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/y1gp99wolcU/dexter.html" title="Dexter" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/12/dexter.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAFQH8yfCp7ImA9Wx9SEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-5103140897050726997</id><published>2010-11-14T23:09:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T21:51:51.194-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-29T21:51:51.194-02:00</app:edited><title>O sonho [Re]começou</title><summary type="html">Quem nunca teve sonhos? Uma boa casa, um emprego bacana ou aquele carro último tipo. Recentemente, estreou na Rede Globo a série Clandestinos e com ela me veio toda a vontade de realizar um sonho antigo: ser ator.
Desde criança tenho esse sonho guardado comigo, mas nunca tive o apoio necessário pra me aventurar num curso e bater de frente com aqueles que acham que não teria futuro.
 
Um pouco de &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/I3gkma-cwCM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/5103140897050726997/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/11/sonho.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/5103140897050726997?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/5103140897050726997?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/I3gkma-cwCM/sonho.html" title="O sonho [Re]começou" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/11/sonho.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcHSHY_fyp7ImA9Wx5UGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-2047333939544438250</id><published>2010-10-23T11:26:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T11:53:59.847-02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-23T11:53:59.847-02:00</app:edited><title>Um mês depois...</title><summary type="html">"Ai, ai, nem sei como começar esse post... Um mês já passou e as coisas vão mal, muito mal pra falar a verdade."Isso era o que eu pensava que postaria, mas até que as coisas estão fluindo bem, os medos que eu tinha com relação a dividir uma casa com "estranhas" não passaram disso. Tá bom, não vou dizer que é tudo perfeito, que estou adorando tudo isso, mas de 0 a 10 acho que posso considerar aí &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/wl5HNs2cs4s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/2047333939544438250/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/10/um-mes-depois.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/2047333939544438250?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/2047333939544438250?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/wl5HNs2cs4s/um-mes-depois.html" title="Um mês depois..." /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/10/um-mes-depois.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8FQnYycCp7ImA9Wx5WFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3803414913587179572.post-4141846156080664077</id><published>2010-09-19T11:50:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T17:50:13.898-03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-25T17:50:13.898-03:00</app:edited><title>A mudança</title><summary type="html">Bom, acho que já tinha falado sobre A MUDANÇA aqui. Estava bem tenso com relação a isso e ontem vim para a casa nova. Bem complicado, não bastavam as caixas e pacotes feitos para serem levados aos poucos, ainda restavam o computador, camas, televisões e um arquivo que eu tenho. Eu, sempre muito temperamental, perdi a paciência com meu pai que quis levar a televisão comigo e não sozinho. Me &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~4/ad9s6DmJxKQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/feeds/4141846156080664077/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/09/mudanca.html#comment-form" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/4141846156080664077?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3803414913587179572/posts/default/4141846156080664077?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/rodrigosantos/~3/ad9s6DmJxKQ/mudanca.html" title="A mudança" /><author><name>Rodrigo Santos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06327858009218328295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="30" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7HFCDRGJVtU/TpXt0NgG5fI/AAAAAAAAAxM/2E-eXvPMfYs/s220/Rodrigo_Santos.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://rodrigosantoss.blogspot.com/2010/09/mudanca.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

