Not only did they bring kick-ass Jillian back, but they put her on a black motorcycle with black boots and a black helmet, and she rode into the desert on that hog to put together the Black Team, which may as well be called the Force of Evil team, because Jillian is breeding them to be unfeeling titanium-muscled cyborgs, or so it seemed in the first episode. If they don't beat the crap out of the other teams, I might cry. Or put a fist through some drywall -- Jillian probably wouldn't have it any other way.
Honestly, though? Jillian can totally make me into the Terminator (or just plain Linda Hamilton) anytime she freaking wants. I found myself getting so excited watching her whip her new outcast team into shape that I actually clapped with glee. Clapped.
What I like most about Jillian is that she's everything a woman isn't supposed to be, and she succeeds that way. She's loud, she's mean, she never smiles, and she's ripped. (Or at least NBC is editing the show and/or paying her more money this season to make it seem like she's tough as nails.) But I can live with that possibly fictitious character development. She's a total brunette goddess whom I'd like to take a boot camp class from. Or, you know, a one on one training session with.... Maybe we could lift together. Or push-ups. Crunches... Hot, sweaty...um...where the hell was I going with this?
After tonight's show, I cruised on over to her Wikipedia page (memo to NBC: The Biggest Loser web page is horrendously video-heavy and hard to navigate). Wikipedia doesn't say a lot about her, other than she lives with her brother (that's somewhat suspicious) in L.A.
So, Jillian, if you're out there, know this: If you come to New York, you can totally hang with me in my apartment, and we'll go to the gym together and talk about protein shakes and lick low-fat ice cream cones while walking through the fall foliage in Madison Square Park. I'll even let you bully me, if you'd like. Ma'am.