Juicy: On Freezers, Foolishness, and the Unexpected Pleasure of Feeling Seen

A domestic misadventure with fruit, frustration, and a perfectly timed dose of salvation.

8 February 2026

• ​787 words • ​5 min read

I’ve never been very good with freezers.
Some people use them sensibly — extra meals for later, meat stored before it spoils, neat little containers labelled with dates. Mine ends up being more like a holding bay for things I once had good intentions for, but somehow never came back to. They get buried under the things I actually use, and then I complain there’s no room for the things I want on hand.

The things I do want on hand are very clear: ice (lots of), Häagen-Dazs in all the important flavours (Strawberries & Cream, Coffee, Vanilla, Belgian Chocolate), a stash of Weis Bars — which, to Queensland children of the 80s, will always be Fruito. a handsome blue ‘limited edition’ bottle of Absolut that I refill from the ordinary ones, and chicken necks for the dog.

Everything else is basically waiting to be thrown out.

Yesterday I finally decided to clear the whole thing. And you can imagine what I found: steaks from two years ago, frozen spinach, mysterious meat parcels wrapped in cling wrap, enough grated cheeses to supply a small pizzeria, arancini balls, and more frozen fruit than I realised I’d accumulated. A ridiculous amount, really.

It made me think I should start making smoothies again, which would both use up the fruit and give me more room for the ice-cream — which, let’s be honest, is the true priority.

My method is straightforward: whatever fruit is in the freezer, a ripe banana (never green), a big spoon of Greek yoghurt, milk up to the line. I use a Nutribullet, which is simple and fast, and perfect for someone who only remembers to use it once every few months.

I put everything together, screwed the blade on, turned the cup upside-down and went to slot it into the base… and it wouldn’t fit. At all. As if the whole machine had suddenly changed shape overnight. I checked everything twice, then three times. Nothing. No movement, no give, no idea what was wrong.

My son (20, curious, amused) wandered in. He repeated my steps, achieved the same failure, then — with the youthful confidence of someone raised on the internet — turned straight to YouTube.

Within a minute he found a video:
“Nutribullet container won’t go down — 5 second fix.”

We watched it together. A man called xxlAlexlxx explained that sometimes the little plastic ring — the one you screw onto the cup for drinking — can get knocked into the base after washing, and it sits there so neatly that it looks like part of the machine. Completely invisible. But it stops the cup from locking in.

He took a fork, lifted the ring out, and the whole thing worked again.

I did the same. Lifted the ring out. Put the cup back in. It slotted in instantly. One tap and the smoothie was blending like nothing had ever happened.

I couldn’t believe it — that such a tiny thing had caused so much confusion, and that one simple video had solved the whole problem in seconds.

The video had 2.6k views and over a thousand grateful comments:

• “There’s a special place in heaven for people like you.”

• “This was by far the most useful video I’ve ever watched.”

• “We were about to return ours to Target. Give this man the Nobel Prize!”

YouTube, which irritates me to no end with its ads (my brother calls it “shitification”: when something once wonderful gets slowly ruined), redeemed itself in one glorious moment. All because one man, nine years ago, filmed a 1 minute 46 second tutorial that continues to save households — and smoothies — across the world.

I grinned about it for the rest of the afternoon.

And what truly gets me is this: clearly thousands of us — over nine years! — have been dutifully washing that little plastic ring, drying it, and then popping it neatly back into the cupboard… directly on top of the Nutribullet base. It must slide in like a homing pigeon, settling itself into the one position guaranteed to ruin your morning. And Nutribullet, bless them, are probably blissfully unaware that a simple design quirk has been quietly consuming 40-minute chunks of human life all over the planet. It’s ridiculous. It’s universal. And apparently none of us ever learn.

There’s something lovely in that — how small, ordinary pieces of knowledge can travel through time and make your afternoon easier. It reminded me how generous people can be without even realising it. And how often the tiniest fix can make everything run smoothly again.

Literally, in this case.

So yes — my freezer is tidy, my smoothie was saved, and somewhere out there a man called xxlAlexlxx is still unknowingly holding civilisation together.

Frankly, I think he deserves a medal.