Your question omits the crucial word “butthead” --nevertheless I will inform you that today is the day that the new WT tower becomes the tallest building in the western hemisphere. Look closely.
Well, I can’t really see the windows at all from my cubicle, but if I get out and look:
North windows - parking lot behind our building, some trees, and the Burlington-Oakville rail line, which carries freight, GO commuter trains, and some VIA intercity passenger trains.
West windows - the roof of the next building over in the business park, a bit of Fairview street and the stoplights at Drury lane.
Oh, the joys of working in suburbia. 
Window? Wassawindow?
If I go across the hall to someone else’s office, I can see the underside of the new temporary walkway. The walkway smells like summer camp.
I’m looking at my laptop. It looks like this thread at the moment.
Wow, I just looked that up–I wonder if I saw the beams riding up the crane? Very cool.
Anybody else read this and get a time-lapsey feel?
The Panama City waterfront. I’m working from home today, and this is very nearly the view from my window right now. My apartment building is behind the two green towers in the foreground.
Farther out I can see the islands in the bay and the ships waiting to enter the Panama Canal.
The MPR and a corner of the rear Faculty Parking Lot.
Trees. A maple down by the sidewalk, a pine, and the lovely pink flowering dogwood practically touching the window.
Darkness has fallen. It’s ten thirty and after a day of travelling we put the Dudeling to bed. Twice. Three times. Seventyeleven times. Where’s Samuel Jackson when you need a good voiceover?
Still, the best thing I saw today.
We’re camped at Monument Valley on the Navajo Res. Looking out the window of the RV, I see towering red cliffs. On the other side is a huge fucking 42’ Class A motorhome.
Looking west from 38,000 feet. Flying from Phoenix to Seattle
I don’t know; I’m not a scientist. 
Out my living room window, a big ol’ poplar, and between two townhouse units, a view of the city lights off in the distance, including a flashing runway light at the airport. We’re >thisclose< to having a fantastic view at this house - just two townhouse units in the way.
Two monitors blocking out most of my forward vision. Above them, an office with a window in the far corner, partly hidden by a stack of books, with a murky, drizzly view of a couple of blocks of flats. To my left, some more desks in front of a window with a view of the sheer glass wall of the adjacent office block.
If I go up to the canteen, though, I get a great view of pretty much the whole of central London, although today most of the tallest buildings are hidden in the clouds.
My newborn daughter sleeping beside me in her mini crib. She is 3 days old.
The jungles of darkest Africa. No, really.
More mothereffing gray rainy drizzle.
It rained hard this morning, but it has stopped now. I’m looking at wet oak trees whose leaves are still dripping water in the wind. the overcast is making them look very green against the wet brown bark of the oak trunks.
The squirrels are up and about, running across lawns and sidewalks, and the birds have just started singing again.
Looking west from our balcony as the sun begins set over Atlantic.
Well, that and the keyboard of my laptop as I respond to your query.
If I look over the tops of my monitors, I see a fuzzy old CRT TV hanging from the ceiling, silently displaying MSNBC and the occasional head as people pass by. If I turn around and look out the windows, all that’s visible is treetops - if I want to see the top of the parking deck, I have to go down the aisle to the window and look down.
Working from home, my view is all the way down the street as I live at the end of a cul-de-sac, however, now that the tree in the front yard has leafed out, about all I can see is leaves and cars turning around at the end of our driveway. More often than not, if I look down, I’ll see one or two dogs sleeping under my desk.
