I knew it was genetic.
My mother drunk dialed me. Post martinis and dinner (which includes the wine) to tell me that my first nanny who cared for me until I was 2 called my mother to tell her about what she was doing... apparently my mom didn't really care... until the woman said that every night her family got together to say the rosary and that they counted me in their prayers every night...and the following conversation ensued:
Dale: Mom...how much have you had to drink?
Mumsy: Your father just bough a case of the finest.... DON"T CHANGE THE SUBJECT.
Dale: Well, you do realize I don't remember these people right?
Mumsy: Well they mean well, they were wonderful when you were little.. don't judge them.
Dale: I bet if you told them I was gay they wouldn't include me in their rosary
Mumsy: Oh hush, they're catholic not retarded.
Dale: What does that have to do with it?
Mumsy: [Dales father] did you only open the one bottle????
Moral of the story.... if you have gay children... start a newsletter or the help will never know what's going on.