I am a bit of a 90s connoisseur, so I think I can say with some authority that you, with your wry observations about upper-middle class relationships, are as quintessentially of that decade as Ethan Hawke's hair in Reality Bites or using the phrase, "It's the 90s" to denote a social paradigm shift. During the 90s you were practically meta-90s (See Bye, Bye Love; Mad About You; the light wash of your high-waisted, slim-fit, tapered-leg jeans). Having said this, I hate you. I love the 90s but hate you. How is this possible? After spending many long seconds puzzling over this paradox I've finally arrived at an answer: You're lame.
OK, so I'll give you My Two Dads, a show that made me want to (a) live in a loft, (b) have a family court judge at my beck and call, and of course, (c) be the precocious daughter of two dads who are polar opposites--one neurotic, one with an acid wash jean jacket.