When I was hired at TV Guide back in 2000, I was a big ball of nerves and anxiety. I was only a few years out of college and I was at TV freakin' Guide! Compounding my jitters was the fact that I was working for the then-fledgling website and there was a weird church/state tension in the office between the high and mighty print staff and us digital folks. It was rare for a "print" person to speak to — or even acknowledge — a member of the lowly web team. But there were a few exceptions. One of them was Nerina Rammairone. She could not give two shits about office politics, so she wouldn't hesitate to say hello to me in the hallway or at the elevator. It quickly became clear that we shared a very similar comedic sensibility (fueled by extreme sarcasm and inappropriate humor) and we became work buddies. She also took the unprecedented and controversial step of throwing me a few coveted assignments in the cable edition of the magazine (which she oversaw with the also-amazing Rochell Thomas.) I'm sure she ruffled a few (print) feathers but, again, she did not give a shit. We stayed in touch (mostly vial social media) after I left TV Guide in 2008. And we occasionally bumped into each other at industry events or on the subway during our very similar morning commute to midtown. And it always felt as if no time had passed. Within seconds we were cracking each other up with some bitchy observation or story. Last week, Nerina died at the age of 44. High-grade neuroendocrine cancer was the culprit. And it totally and completely sucks.