<?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-6397240</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:04:27.540Z</updated><title type='text'>A Coisa da Tia</title><subtitle type='html'>A Coisa da Tia e outras coisas. 
Contribuam para esta coisa. A coisa também é vossa. Enviam as vossas coisas. Serão coisadas na Coisa da Tia.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://acoisadatia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acoisadatia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Carlos Ribeiro</name><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><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6397240.post-107883363592090041</id><published>2004-03-09T12:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-09T12:03:43.013Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Come with me, my girl&lt;br /&gt;Come see the sunset&lt;br /&gt;And cry for the lost moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come with me, my friend&lt;br /&gt;Come lay down in the sand&lt;br /&gt;And wait for the insane thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come with me, my brother&lt;br /&gt;Let’s go change the world&lt;br /&gt;And challenge the death, finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk with me, my god&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what’s wrong&lt;br /&gt;And I will leave you alone, happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6397240-107883363592090041?l=acoisadatia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107883363592090041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107883363592090041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acoisadatia.blogspot.com/2004_03_07_archive.html#107883363592090041' title=''/><author><name>Carlos Ribeiro</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6397240.post-107566520423637527</id><published>2004-02-01T19:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-02-01T19:55:40.920Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Camões&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camões está carente &lt;br /&gt;Necessita urgentemente&lt;br /&gt;De alguém com quem foder.&lt;br /&gt;Resolveu procurar alguém &lt;br /&gt;Lá para os lados de Belém &lt;br /&gt;E encontrou um linda loira.&lt;br /&gt;Resolveu saltar-lhe ao pito.&lt;br /&gt;De súbito ouve-se um grito,&lt;br /&gt;Camões desvirgindou-a.&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo sabendo que magoa&lt;br /&gt;Camões continuou,&lt;br /&gt;Enfiou-lhe o coiso todo&lt;br /&gt;Até que ela implorou:&lt;br /&gt;“Calma viril Camões,&lt;br /&gt;Com o bater dos teus colhões&lt;br /&gt;E o enfiar do teu mangalho,&lt;br /&gt;Vai foder para o caralho&lt;br /&gt;Que já não aguento mais.”&lt;br /&gt;“Está calada mulher louca&lt;br /&gt;Já estou fato de ouvir&lt;br /&gt;Foder é coisa pouca &lt;br /&gt;Por isso deixa-me vir.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6397240-107566520423637527?l=acoisadatia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107566520423637527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107566520423637527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acoisadatia.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107566520423637527' title=''/><author><name>Carlos Ribeiro</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6397240.post-107537249550948344</id><published>2004-01-29T10:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-01-29T10:37:07.013Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A lua parece imóvel no céu, como que escutando o teu nome soprado pelo vento. 	&lt;br /&gt;As estrelas viajam, ignorando a terra adormecida. &lt;br /&gt;O mundo todo está a dormir, e só eu estou acordado, perdido em recordações. &lt;br /&gt;Fecho os olhos para ver melhor o que minha mente desenha, o que minha alma sente.&lt;br /&gt;Os meus olhos perdem-se imaginando o azul do mar, perdem-se procurando, no manto sedoso do céu, um indício de algo que ainda não sei...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6397240-107537249550948344?l=acoisadatia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107537249550948344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107537249550948344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acoisadatia.blogspot.com/2004_01_25_archive.html#107537249550948344' title=''/><author><name>Carlos Ribeiro</name><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6397240.post-107531180360144091</id><published>2004-01-28T17:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-01-28T17:45:34.030Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Você me abandonô&lt;br /&gt;Naquela praia deserta&lt;br /&gt;Dizendo: "Meu amô&lt;br /&gt;Entre nóis a coisa tá preta.&lt;br /&gt;Você me aperta contra seu peito&lt;br /&gt;Não me deixa nem respirá,&lt;br /&gt;Entre nóis não tem jeito&lt;br /&gt;Temos mesmo que acabá."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prá tentá esquecê você&lt;br /&gt;Caminhei junto ao má,&lt;br /&gt;Um caranguejo mordeu meu pé&lt;br /&gt;Não dá mais práguentá.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O meu coração te perdeu&lt;br /&gt;E meu pé tá inchando,&lt;br /&gt;Agora você me fodeu&lt;br /&gt;Com essa: "Não tou mais te amando."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais não se preocupe, minha flô&lt;br /&gt;Que o que tá me preocupando&lt;br /&gt;Não é a falta do seu amô&lt;br /&gt;Mais o pé que não tá sarando.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6397240-107531180360144091?l=acoisadatia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107531180360144091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6397240/posts/default/107531180360144091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://acoisadatia.blogspot.com/2004_01_25_archive.html#107531180360144091' title=''/><author><name>Carlos Ribeiro</name><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></entry></feed>
