Couchsurfing California

As someone whose quest is to avoid hostels, shun guidebooks and refuse to fall into the tourist traps, I have to say I'm doing pretty well.
Let's look at a brief history of my couchsurfing quest so far:
LA: Stayed at Roxy's grandmother's place in Burbank. Verdict: successful, save for the night I "sleptwalk" (read: drank too much, woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and lay down on the first soft surface I could find, which just happened to be next to a sleeping Alma. Did I mention I was wearing only boxer shorts and that Alma is 85?). Luckily, Alma's humour hasn't diminished with her age, and she saw the funny side of it, as did the entire Bauer family.

Pismo Beach: Set up camp at Roxy's family's house, high up on the hill overlooking Pismo Beach, about 250km north of Los Angeles. Vinyl couches, wooden walls and green carpet, all perfectly preserved, made this home a wonderful example of 1960s American decor. Verdict: Successful, save for the night we met a "Shaman", went back to his hotel room after the bar closed and stole his hat and shirt.

San Francisco (attempt 1): Our local contact was a girl after my own heart. She too suffered from the affliction of having a first and a last name that just roll off the tongue, thereby having everyone call her by her first and last names. Grace Li, or "graceli" lives in the Soma district of San Francisco. A mixture of hipsters and heroin addicts, Soma is industrial but one of SF's "up and coming" neighbourhoods.
A lack of repsonsible thinking and drinking led to Roxy and I having to sleep in the hotel room of two pizza and beer loving Italians, Carlo and Francesco. A lack of space led to us sleeping in a bay window and waking up with cotton mouth.
Verdict: successful, bar the bay window experience.

San Francisco: (attempt two)
graceli's hospitality has been extended, and my address is now a mattress on the floor in a loungeroom of a Soma apartment block. Until the next couch.