“I FEEL LIKE I would be annoyed by me if I weren’t me,” Chrissy Teigen says. “I feel that all the time.”

It’s a late-summer afternoon, and the 32-year-old Teigen is stepping into the kitchen of the Los Angeles home she shares with her husband, the award-hoarding musician John Legend. The couple’s two-year-old daughter, Luna, is rambling around nearby; their recent arrival, Miles, is cooing in a bassinet. A bulldog named Paul cozies at my feet.

The house is a knockout. It’s atop the hills and has the kind of alpha-lion view you fantasize about when you fantasize about owning a home in L.A. Rihanna used to live here; Teigen has joked about opening Rihanna’s mail. There’s a piano in the foyer with a shelf showcasing Legend’s bursting collection of Grammys, plus his Oscar and his Tony—he’ll win an Emmy in September, entering the rare club known as the EGOT. Teigen will post an Instagram video of Legend putting the Emmy atop the shelf, looking like a proud Little Leaguer back from the playoffs.

Teigen returns with glasses of rosé for us. It’s from Legend’s winery, LVE. It’s good. What do I look like, a sommelier?

I have come to see Teigen because I believe Teigen has important answers for the universe. You know her as a model, a television personality (Paramount Network’s Lip Sync Battle), and the author of the best-selling cookbook Cravings and its recently published sequel. You know her as one half of one of the most appealing couples on earth—seriously, they’re so both adorable you want to pinch them.

But it’s my unscientific opinion that Teigen’s greatest contribution to the planet is her presence on social media. Chrissy Teigen may be the Last Likable Person on the Internet.

We all know how it is. These days, social media feels like a fistfight inside a garbage can inside a septic truck. And yet Teigen wittily navigates the digital fray. Here’s a Teigen tweet on marriage: “I always have a note in my pocket that says ‘John did it’ in case I’m murdered because I don’t want him to remarry.” Here’s another, on childbirth: “No one told me I would be coming home in diapers, too.” Here’s one on food: “Truffle oil is vile.” Buzzfeed once collected a list of her 100 funniest Tweets as if they were lines from Dorothy Parker. I worship this droll masterpiece: “My favorite part about my anniversary dinner was the girl who came to our table who John used to bone and also the sea bass.”